


Captivating Hearts

by LightDeviantHaven



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, BDSM, Broadway References, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Consensual Kink, Depression, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Harassment, Hurt, Light Angst, Living Together, Minor Original Character(s), Musical References, Panic Attacks, Romantic Friendship, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Trauma, Verbal Abuse, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 102,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightDeviantHaven/pseuds/LightDeviantHaven
Summary: It's a Tale as Old as Time as a magic spell intertwines the lives of two lonely souls. Both having their own share own abuse and ostracism; Belle & the Beast find companionship grow between them as other curiosities grow as well.WIP. Mad slow burn. New chapter updates every 1-2 weeks. I have a complete plot outline, just need to write. Things are expected to eventually get explicit.   Trigger warnings for child abuse, verbal abuse, sexual harrasment, anxiety, depression, suicide.
Relationships: Adam/Belle (Disney), Beast/Belle (Disney)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 122





	1. Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this rollercoaster of a fanfic. It's been years since I've tried my hand at writing and this peice has been simmering in the crockpot for years now.  
> I hope you all enjoy this more mature fic of one of my favorite movies Beauty and the Beast.
> 
> Chapter 1 Trigger Warning- panic attacks & depression!!!
> 
> **********************************

**Chapter 1**

**Intruder**

_Trigger warnings: panic attacks, depression, hints of childhood trauma_

* * *

He heard the howling of wolves in the dark forest below his castle. It was unusual. The wolves had learned long ago to stay far from his territory.

' _Had they given chase to some prey?'_ he wondered.

Autumn was almost over and prey was more and more scarce as creatures hunkered down to hibernate in their mountainside dens and burrows.

But then he heard the shouts. An old man. Begging for help. Begging to be let in through the gate. The shouts sent chills shooting down his spine. The last time someone had begged for shelter his life had been utterly ruined. 

_'No!'_ his mind panicked. _'Is this another test? Will it get worse?_ '

He rushed out onto his chamber's balcony, and peered down the right side below. He saw a stout man stumbling along the stone bridge in the rain.

 _' Please no more_ ,' his mind pleaded as he growled in frustration. His spine snapped up to a stiff posture as he realized he was gripping the marble balcony rail. His claws were crumbling the stone beneath his grip. Turning away, he made his way into his pitch black chambers and out into the corridor. 

"Haven't I suffered enough?" he grumbled, stomping through the castle corridors.

He was cursed, no longer a royal Prince, but a Beast. His humanity was shredded by protruding fangs, sharp claws, twisting horns and thick brown fur covering his monsterous chimera form. His life of royal luxury was altered to a horrific hellish nightmare.

"Oh, excuse me Master!" a warm voice called out from a wheeling bronze serving cart.

It was Mrs. Potts and her brood- all cursed as well. Except they were not monsters like he. Their fate was truly worse. They had become mere household items. Mrs. Potts was no longer a grey haired, plump, rosy cheeked grandmotherly woman, but a bizzare pastel porcelain teapot with the strange features similar to her former human face. The teacups and serving items around her were all her young human charges; like her own sons& daughters. They had all come to the castle at a young age to serve. He couldn't remember what they looked like before. He wouldn't have cared then anyways. They all blurred with their uniforms into the background of castle life.

" I'm sorry, but there is a situation," Mrs. Potts continued. "A lost fellow has wandered in. What shall we do, Master?"

The Beast grumbled irritated.

"He is trespassing," he snarled. " But this could be another trick from that wicked enchantress." He rubbed his clawed hand over his face, rubbing his fur covered forehead thinking." Feed, cloth, and shelter him. Tell me if he wishes for anything more. That should appease whatever dumb pagan hospitality rights any witch might abide by."

" Yes, Master," Mrs. Potts moved in a nodding like motion and willed the inanimate cart away. He knew for certain the cart had not been human before the curse. Mrs.Potts had often used that serving cart attending him in his youth. Sometimes it was difficult to know what might have been a servant and what was a simple object magically willed by a servant. It was stressful to worry about possibly harming a servant on accident. 

Frustrated by the uninvited stranger, the Beast continued to make his way down to the main floor. The galleries were all dark save for a lounging sitting room. There, in front of the granite fireplace sat a portly short grey haired moustached man in his late sixties. He was wrapped in a velvety throw blanket in a large armchair and Mrs. Potts was now serving him tea. The Beast remained in the foyer hidden in darkness. 

'What service!' the old man marveled. 'How is this accomplished? Clockwork gears? Puppetry? An automation?'

The man had picked up a small mahogany mantel clock and began inspecting it. The clock's enchanted body wriggled protesting and then scolded the man for his rudeness.

"Sir! Close that at once!" shouted the clock man slamming shut a glass panel displaying it's golden pendulum. "Do You Mind?"

"I beg your pardon," the man apologized "it's just that I've never seen such craftsmanship before."

Mrs. Potts and a golden candelabra man chuckled. 

"Cogsworth, you must forgive the poor monsieur," coaxed Lumiere the candelabra man. "He is only being curious."

" Yes, yes," agreed the old man setting down Cogsworth the mantle clock man on to the ornate rug before the fireplace. "I was merely curious." Cogsworth let out a hhmf noise crossing two ornate brass handles like arms across his chest.

" Very well," announced Cogsworth to the ensemble in a stuffy manner.

The Beast continued to watch. This man seemed far too amused by the cursed servants to be a spell caster in the disguise of a dirty poor merchant. Then again, the decision to shelter him was wiser than the risk of a secondary curse.

"Is there anything else that Moinsuer should like?" asked Lumiere.

" No no, " the man shook his head and waved his hand. "You have been more than hospitable. Thank you for your kindness. I merely need to rest a little longer, and I'll be on my way."

" Very well then," stated Cogsworth. "Do call should you require anything." He waddled out of the room as Lumiere and Mrs. Potts seemed to bounce along, following into the dark hall. They then noticed the Beast standing in the darkness. He put a clawed finger up to his mouth to signify silence from them. They gave him a worried nod and went about their evening duties.

The Beast continued to watch the man resting in the armchair. The Beast was curious if the man would now show his true colors as a thief and take the opportunity to fill his travel bag with the furnishings and ornamentations decorating the room. But the old man continued to rest comfortably in the plush colorfully embroidered armchair watching the roaring cozy hearth. It seemed like hours had passed to the Beast. The Beast was now certain by the man's scent of horse and smoke wafting to his sensitive nostrils, this man was flesh and blood; not magic. There was another faint scent too of rosemary and other spices as the man moved his arm to leaned his chin on his calloused hands. 

" Belle, would adore this," the old man muttered gazing into the fireplace. " I do believe this is some sort of castle of dreams."

The Beast forced himself to not laugh. 

_'A castle of dreams_ ,' he mused. ' _Perhaps nightmares.'_

The old man looked to the door into the dark foyer. 

" Hellooo???" called out the old man. 

' _He must have heard me breathing_ ,' the Beast reasoned shifting further into the dark against a marble pillar. While his servants maybe charming, his chimera form would deeply disturb the old man. He wanted to avoid being seen and forced to socialize. The old man rose from the chair and folded the blanket that had covered his shoulders.

" Well, I've lingered long enough," he huffed speaking to himself out loud. "I still need to fetch Phillpe, poor thing." The man put on his brimmed hat and cloak that were draped on a hook drying by the fire and exited the sitting lounge. He stopped midway in the lobby and turned to face the grand staircase. 

" Thank you for your kind hospitality magical Masters of this castle," he proclaimed loudly to the air. " I wish you well!" The old man nodded and put his hands on his hips proudly. He waited a moment to see if there would be a response but after finding none, he turned to leave the foyer.

' _Finally,'_ sighed the Beast in silent relief. ' _It's over._ ' 

The man then halted. He looked to his left down a long dark gallery. The Beast could tell a side door down at the end of the gallery had been left open by the fresh draft and the sound of gentle rain. He was surprised that the old man had noticed. 

" Is someone there?" the old man called out, slowly shuffling in to the dark towards the door.

' _Damn,_ ' the Beast cursed inwardly. ' _Leave already!'_ The portly gray old man stepped out of the small door into the gardens. 

The Beast hurried from his dark hiding spot to the far away door.

' _Who the hell left that open?'_ he cursed silently.

He watched the man wander in amazement into the overgrown ornamental evergreen maze. 

_'Damn, he's going to get lost in there and he'll never leave.'_

The Beast followed outside into the misting light rain. Iron wrought and glass lanterns were aglow throughout the greenery and bare autumn branches. Lumiere was apparently aware of the wandering guest for the candelabra man was able to control the lighting and hearths throughout the castle grounds by willpower. The Beast had no need for such lights with his heightened nocturnal eyes dilated. He stayed closer to the shadows and watched the old man reach the garden's climbing roses. Their large creamy white blooms draped the stone arches. Irritation gripped the Beast's stomach like a vice. 

He grimaced. His mind silently screamed out swirling thoughts of hatred. How dare this commoner enter the private rose gardens. They were sacred to him. They were sacred to France. The only true memory of his Mother. Those memories flooded his mind. The summer picnics on those snow white petals listening to minstrels sing and play their stringed instruments. All her hard work of collecting varieties that would bloom from spring to autumn. Nobles would flock to the summer mountain castle to view those pristine blooms that were spoken about in far away Versailles. Cuttings were transported there for those royal hothouses. 

Flames.

All singed and turned to ash. Father's destructive order at her death. The painstaking attempts of having the master gardeners try to regrow the roses from dried rosehips after his father's death. Even though the long attempts had been successful, those climbing vines were not as sturdy or splendid as the original hybrids she had cultivated. They were meek imitators of her pristine work. 

' _How dare that man!_ ' the Beast's mind fumed. ' _How dare this intruder trespass here!'_

" Extraordinary," marveled the old man reaching for the last of the autumn blooms. The rose snapped off the vine. The Beast's threads of patience also snapped.

 **"How dare you**!" he roared. His chimera form twisted his voice to sound out like a menagerie of lions or bears. The man spun around toward the direction of the roar grasping his chest.

' _This peasant dares take my noble mother's roses_!' the Beasts mind screamed.

He leapt over a section of bare branched shrubbery and landed in front of the man. The man fell backwards onto the ground with his hand outstretched in fear.

' _Like a true coward,'_ mused the Beast.

"What are you doing here?" he growled in irritation.

"I'm, I'm sorry," stammered the old man shivering on the mossy wet stepping stones. 

"I give you food and shelter even though you trespass and yet **YOU** dare take **THESE** roses?" the Beast snarled.

"They….." gulped the old man. " They are just flowers. There's dozens more…"

 **"Silence**!" roared the Beast. He clenched his claws feeling them pierce the palms of hands. He tried to control his breathing but he shook with rage. 

The man's mouth hung wide like a dumb fish. His eyes widened and he froze staring at him. The Beast felt his mouth foaming with saliva. The animal chimera form screamed in the back of his mind to sink his claws into this outlaw's throat and savour his warm blood. The Beast grew dizzy with disgust at his cursed thoughts. 

"What are you starting at?" he snarled at the old man still quivering on the ground. 

"Nnnnothing."

"Liar!" the Beast growled. He stooped finding himself on all fours. He drew close to the old man. "Thief! Trespasser!" 

"I was lost," spouted the old man. " I just needed a place to rest."

"Hhmf," snorted the Beast. "I'll give you a place to rest." He reached out his bloody clawed hand towards the man. He grabbed him up by the collar of his shirt and cloak and carried him back into the castle darkness. The man wailed and wriggled. He begged to be let go, saying something about being sorry and something about a daughter who asked for the rose.

The Beast only half heard the excuses and lies. He climbed the prison tower steps to the holding cells and focused on not ripping the man apart by his arms. The torches became alight one by one the higher he rose. 

"Here is where criminals rest," he roughly shoved the flailing old man into a cell. He lowered the gate and locked the mechanism. "You may rot here." 

The Beast rushed down the spiraling stairs leaving the old man coughing in the cell. He was furious. He felt his blood boiling. He felt as if another monster would rip out of his cursed body.

Although, the punishment was carried out. It was enough he reasoned. But it wasn't.

' _I need to calm down!'_ he thought. ' _I'm going to lose my mind!'_

The chimera animal inside his mind was trying to overtake his senses. He would kill the man for sure. 

Rage. Such rage made him shake and feel like his body was a thunderstorm. He dashed out on all fours through the castle outside into the misting rain. This energy. The animal curse was far too wild now. He caught a scent on the wind. Wolves?

"Damn," he cursed, still running on the muddy grounds. He knew he must give in to the chase or taste that man's blood in his fangs.

It was so disgusting. It was so uncivil. So wolves it was.

His claws hit the wet mud as he raced into the tall pine trees. A wind was blowing in pushing the rain to fall heavy once again. The crisp scent of incoming snow was in the air. It filled his nostrils. No other animal scents filled his senses. The rabbits were hidden in their burrows, deer resting, but the wolves were out. Everything else blurred.

Pine and cedar scent.

Cold mud in between his claws.

Cold. Wet. The beating in his head like a drum. 

1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2 like a wild metronome.

He ran and ran on all fours until he could no longer breath properly. He stood in a clearing panting. Breathing was so hard now. His heart felt like it would burst.

" Please," he whispered to no one in the dark. 

' _Please what?'_ he wondered to himself. He felt dizzy and like vomiting. He still panted for what seemed like forever even though he had long stopped running. 

Fire, roses, screaming- all of it swirled in his mind. He couldn't think straight. He just stood there in the dark rain, breathing far too fast and looking up at the lighting flashing in the sky.

He felt the cold mud in his feet and claws. He found he had sunked to his knees and braced himself from falling face flat in the mud. Breathing was harder, but now slower and deeper. His body shook and he felt the chilly wind pick up. He felt the caked and splattered mud beginning to freeze and tangle in his fur.

 _'Disgusting_ ,' he thought. The rain was tapering off.

' _How far have I run?_ ' he wondered. ' _How long have I been pitifully prostrated like this?'_

He placed his hands on his knees and rose onto two feet. The rain had tapered off. He hadn't caught the wolves. 

' _They must have escaped when they caught my scent,'_ he concluded. His breathing was normal again and he was exhausted.

' _Should I go back...or,'_ he pondered. ' _I could wander the woods like the creature I am. A filth caked forest spirit_.' He chuckled. ' _No, no spirit, just a beast.'_

He finally turned around and trudged slowly back towards the castle. Just as he always had countless times before.

He tried to step in the exact same footprints that were sunken deep in the mud. He wasn't sure why. It felt right to be methodical. 

He was certain that when he returned he would have to deal with the pitiful moans of the prisoner. The prospect irritated him. What to do with the matter? Let him go? The man had trespassed and attempted to steal from the royal gardens. He certainly was dressed too poorly to be able to pay any sort of fine for his crime. The man's sentence would be time spent to pay for the indiscretion. The servants would see that he was fed.

' _He should find himself lucky that I do not maim his hands or pluck off his fingers as other judges may do,"_ mused the Beast. 'I _am not **that** sadistic. Not like Father.'_ More memories of the various grotesque public punishments and executions blurred in his mind. The screams. The death screams. Not nearly as entertaining or plesant as other screams where pain and pleasure had blurred. He didn't want to think about those things right now.

Just muddy pawprints. His deep purple cloak had come loose from his run. He found it sinking into the wet grassy grounds. He picked it up and carried it in his clawed hand. 

The clouds were turning a dim blue on the horizon. It seemed like he was walking for almost two hours towards the westward castle- towards the darkness. He felt numb. Hollow like a puppet. His legs moved on their own. He didn't remember walking up the grand carved stone steps to the entrance. 

"Master, you have returned."

Words came from someone. A greeting? Then more words followed- about a situation with the guest and his daughter? 

' _It's probably Lumiere_ ,' the Beast thought. 'I _don't care right now.'_ He dropped his cloak on the floor.

"A bath," he stated. 

"Erm, yes of course, Master," stammered Lumiere. "If we may revisit the situation of the guest afterwards then?"

The Beast rolled his eyes in irritation and grunted. He could easily leap up the castle levels, but he was tired from the run and the memories. He made his way to the darkened and dilapidated West Wing and stood out on the balcony feeling the cold wind in his damp smelly fur. Snow was coming from the mountains soon. He could smell it fresh on the wind. Another winter. Another year as a monster. Maybe, the final year. And then that damn rose would finally be finished.

An ornate marble pedestal and an engraved glass cloche rested in the back of his chambers. It housed the key to his damnation- a wilting red rose. The rose was not simple though as it hovered effortlessly in midair, glowing and sparkling with magic. Over the years it's glow had dimmed and it's petals were now slowly falling as it aged. He was often torn between destroying it or continuing to treasure it. In fact, he wasn't sure he could destroy an enchanted item. Or IF he could destroy it then he may unleash a worse curse up himself and the castle residents. 

"Ehem, excuse me Master," he heard the formal pomp of Cogsworths voice at the doorway. "Your bath is ready. If you would."

Beast grunted and made his way through claw riddled double doors in his chambers to the cabinet de bain, which was similar to a Turkish bath. First he stepped into a gold rimmed porcelain basin and was doused with warm water. He snarled as he felt an object servant rubbing his arms and legs with a suddsy sponge removing the dirt. He did not wish to be touched right now but the idea of being mudcaked was far worse. After another dousing of warm water he made his way to the room's tiled center. 

He lowered himself into the permanent marble tub filled with steaming hot water. Another object servant came up to give him another lather with scented oils. Beast growled.

' _Away with you,_ ' he thought. ' _Not today.'_

Although he hadn't spoken the object servant took the hint from the growl and left. The Beast sank further into the warmth of the water until his bearded chin was in the water. He watched the water's surface as he was mesmerized by the candlelight flickering on the ripples of the water and the steam rising off the surface. He tried to avoid focusing on his own fur covered hooked nosed reflection. His thoughts wouldn't stay still or form clearly. It was easier to shut them out entirely and stare dumbly at the tricks of light on the water.

" Come now, Master," he heard Mrs.Potts chirp in her grandmotherly tone. "Before the bath grows cold. You mustn't catch cold. Have some tea, Sir."

 _'I seriously doubt I can catch a cold with this form_ ,' the Beast thought. He huffed and stood up.

A swarm of cotton towels swirl around him patting his fur dry. Even though the peasants and other nobles had their superstitions of about deadly bathing and growing stronger from filth, his mother had enforced cleanliness in his daily routine. The royal cabinet de bain had been designed by forgein Persian architects and he was cleaned daily with distilled spirits. He had found that the most unclean nobles often died of diseases more often than not. Just like his Father. 

_'And Mother wouldn't have died if he had been cleanier and more loyal,'_ he thought. He hadn't wanted to think of that.

He was still damp as he stepped out of the stone Turkish bath and his fur itched. Shivers of irritation shook his spine and the animal instinct took over. He shook out his fur like a dog. He growled irritated by the inability to control that instinct. A dressing robe was draped on his shoulders and he took a cup of warm black tea Mrs. Potts had prepared on her cart.

He downed the tea in one gulp and set the unfortunate young teacup right side up on the cart. 

His legs felt heavy and sore from his anger fueled sprint as he made his way back into the darkness of his main chamber. There was a large ornate bed, but the blankets and curtains were torn and dirty. The frame had seized from his size and his fits of rage. It remained untouched and in disrepair. He didn't want anyone to be inside this room. It was his domain and his alone. If they entered, he may not be able to distinguish object from servant. Their lives would be at risk to his chimera rage. The servants could do what the wish with the rest of the castle, trying to maintain the false image of a normal estate, but he would not deny the reality of his monsterousness. Other furnishings also lay in the blue shadows of dawn, damaged and broken in the dusty room along with the remains of the mutilated animal bones and carcasses he had hunted.

His feet carried him to an unbroken chaise. He had found it elsewhere in the castle and moved to the room himself. His clawed fur covered feet dangle off the edge of the chaise with no shoes, as he pulled his robe close around him and lay on his side. The room was growing a dust blue color and dawn had begun.

' _Another day as a Beast_ ,' he brooded closing his eyes to sleep away the day.


	2. Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is enjoying a mundane autumn afternoon when things quickly turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize ahead of time for the length of this long exposition filled chapter. I really wanted to get village life done with in one chapter. Belle doesn't like the place either. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault. ( Yes unwanted kissing and touching is considered assault)

The chickens were fed and their eggs collected. Philippes's stall was mucked and new hay freshened for his eventual return. The goats had been milked and were finished grazing for the day. They had wandered into their pen filled with a trough of hay, kitchen scraps and other potager weeds. The cottage was swept, dusted, and tidy as usual. Laundry had been finished a few days before with the assistance of a colonial scrub board design Papa had replicated.

And it wasn't even midday.

Belle felt relief but was agitated. There was nothing to do until her Papa's return save for keep house or pick any straggling apples from the trees bordering their land. That seemed unnecessary as she had already filled the cellar with several bushels for the winter months ahead. The last of the autumn mushrooms and potager herbs hung along the wooden beams in the kitchen drying. The autumn harvest was practically over. But the early afternoon sun still shone warming the inside of the cottage.

 _'Time to read!'_ Belle gleefully thought to herself.

She grabbed a butter dish and some brioche and set it on the linen covered table near the fireplace. Papa's rocking chair sat empty on the other side. He was due to return the following week with news of his successful invention and a fresh picked rose. Before he left, he asked Belle what she wanted from the city. Belle knew they couldn't afford the luxury of a new dress or shoes or book. An inexpensive hot house rose or even a simple wilted wayside autumn rose would please her. She had difficulty growing roses in the rocky soil so that is what she asked for. She could use a rose to make a small pleasant oil or soap.

Belle angled herself in her wooden chair, placing a pillow behind her back and swinging her legs over the chair arm. She tucked away the loose strands of chestnut brown hair that had fallen on her forehead. Opening a nightblue leatherbound book and she was lost to the fantastical world within.

She adored this collection of tales; One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. It enthralled her so. The stories told of far off lands with brave queens, trickster healers, jinni, magic carpets, healing apples, daring swordfights and princes in disguise. It was her favorite book collection from her childhood. Her elaborately illustrated copies had sadly burned in her childhood home in the city.

She was overjoyed when she discovered a copy of the 12th volume kept by Monsieur Caron, the local record keeper. In addition to his duties of maintaining the village's legal documents, he had also set up a small bookshop for additional income. Practical texts on crops, medicines, cooking and ale brewing were plentiful, but he had a handful of fiction works in his personal collection. It included Chaucer, Shakespeare, and this segment of the Arabian adventure. He had been kind to her as a curious child in a new village, permitting her to borrow his books in return for mending that he could not sew at his widower age with his poor eyesight. On her recent visit he gave Belle the copy of "One Thousand and One Arabian Nights". A good luck present he said. She had been thrilled.

Belle absentmindedly finished her brioche and sipped on light cider never peeling her eyes off the text she had read dozens of times before. She reached the part when Morgiana recognized the Thief Leader at the feast when a knock at the door pushed her out of her ink worded world.

' _Oh no. Have the goats escaped again?'_ Belle wondered. She swung her slippered feet off the chair arm and stood up adjusting her cornflower blue overgown. Her eyes lingered on the pages as she set down her beloved book on to the table. Morgiana was just about to perform her deadly sword dance.

She heard the knocking again. Belle hurried along the pine floor to the front door. She pulled down an extending contraption her inventor father created with mirrors and glass to see who might be on the other side. The village may be safe, but it did no harm for a young unwed woman home alone to take extra precautions for her safety. She recognized the familiar defined cleft chin and oiled black hair. Belle groaned in irritation rolling her eyes. She knew that narcissistic face. It was Gaston.

Retracting the viewing device, she wondered if she should bother opening the door. If the goats were loose they would be fine for a few more hours. Maybe they were wandering to find a neighboring billy goat. That would save the hassle of searching to fix them up so the nanny goats would produce milk through the winter.

Belle did not want to speak to him or rather be spoken to. Preached to honestly. Gaston seemed to loved the sound of his own voice. It was the only thing he loved more than the praises of his hunting skills, or his family's tavern or his good looks. Anything positive about him and he would gloat. She had even called him primeval the other day and he took that as a complement. She didn't understand why he, such an ignorant, vain man was so popular. She swore she once heard the whole rowdy tavern singing about his favored muscles and strength one evening.

All of that she might find irritating but acceptable company if he was only good natured. But that was not the case. Worse than his vanity, and ignorance was his self centered, insulting and rude manner. He mocked her precious books snatching them away from her. He openly ridiculed her father's hard work calling him mad and laughing behind his back. He constantly shoved, hit and punched other village men, especially his hunting attendant Lefou. The village men would all laugh and shrug it off.

"That Gaston's a tough guy for ya," they would say.

Worse of all was his libertine nature when approaching ladies. He acted like he was God's gift to women. He would leer over her at the market stalls and pulled her unwillingly into his musky over perfumed arms. She swore he bathed in it. She could always smell some sort of alcohol on his breath when he invaded her space. It was revolting and made her nauseous.

All the other villagers cheered him on of course. He was considered by the majority to be the most popular, successful and handsome man in the village. They considered themselves lucky and graced by the Lord himself to have such a decorated military officer and hero reside in their village. They found his misogynistic manners to be a flirtatious amusement no matter how often Belle pushed Gaston away or said no. The other young women looked at her as if they would drown her out of jealousy.

" She's playing hard to get lad," the men would shout. " She's a funny one that Belle. Don't stop hunting her." Gaston would then grin a well rehearsed smile, pull his musket from his back sling, and aim it on her.

" Don't worry men. I never miss."

" No, Gaston. You are not for me. I don't admire you," Belle would state. "Besided, we could never make each other happy." He would then laugh. Belle was never sure if his musket was powdered and ready. Gaston had a habit of shooting geese and ducks from the village square for entertainment and for the tavern's evening meals, so she presumed it always was ready. That was frightening. At anytime, that musket may misfire. He had unintentionally shot a cow at market once and the owner unbelievably apologized for the cow being in Gaston's way. The villagers had seemed to long forget about that slight though.

 _'No,'_ she decided. She wouldn't open the door to even acknowledge him. Gaston was too volatile. He had no proof she was even there at home. If she stayed quiet he would go away. The door swung open.

 _'What on Earth? No!'_ her mind shouted in shock. _'Why didn't_ _I_ _lock the door?'_

Not that she ever needed to before. Gaston had never visited her home. His leather boot stomped across the threshold and he stood tall in his red formal coat, a woven marigold vest and white breeches. He grinned a sideways smile and raised his eyebrows. It was the smouldering face, as he called it. It was the look that made the young ladies of the town giggle, squeal and swoon. Belle never understood their reaction. It was a false practiced face. It did not amuse her.

 _'Why is_ _he in my home?'_ Belle's mind cried out. ' _I_ _didn't even open the door!_ _I didn't even respond.'_

Gaston strode towards her with his thumbs tucked into his waist belt. Belle backed away trying to stay away from his possible grasp. His musk scented eau de toilette was even more nauseating today.

 _'Keep calm,'_ she reminded herself. _'If you're pleasant he won't be forceful.'_ Gaston was always more physically affectionate the more she retorted and refused.

"Gaston..." Belle started still shocked at his uninvited entry. " What a pleasant surprise."She feigned a courteous smile. Gaston still stepped closer to her but she backed away further. Her back hit a mirrored walnut wood cabinet. She pushed off the cabinet and maneuvered herself to the other side.

" Isn't it though," his low baritone voice oozed with rehearsed charm. " I'm just full of surprises." He put his hand on the cabinet trying to catch hers but she had pulled it away faster than he could. He smiled amused and bent down leaning closer to her. "There isn 't a girl in town that wouldn't _**love**_ to be in **_your_** shoes."

 _'Oh no,'_ she thought ' _He's begun his soliloquy. Please leave.'_

But Belle knew she couldn't tell him outright to leave. Gaston would only then grab her and try to kiss her again. He had the nerve to do that in the marketplace last month. She had turned to see who had tapped her on the shoulder when Gaston had grabbed her by the waist and pressed his mouth against hers. It tasted like cabbage and vinegar. The flower merchant had clapped and cheered when this happened. She pushed him away and he laughed striding to the tavern before Belle could recollect her thoughts and rebuke him. She was left standing shakily in the street, stomach in knots, wiping the saliva off her mouth, trying not to cry from the invasive first kiss. She had told her Papa about it. He then confronted Gaston about treating Belle with more respect and staying away from her. Since then Gaston had not kissed her again but still grabbed her shoulders, arms, and tried to kiss her hands.

" This is the day," Gaston started. He stopped to stare at his reflection in the walnut framed mirror. He ran his tounge over his teeth cleaning a black speck of tobacco chew that lingered in his gumline.

"AH!" Gaston exclaimed after he had succeeded removing the speck. He stood tall again and walked closer to Belle who had situation herself on the other side of the cabinet. " This is the day all of your dreams come true," he gestured to the air.

 _'His hand!'_ Belle had to avoid his grasp. She backed away further towards the wooden table by the stone hearth.

" What do you know about my dreams, Gaston?" she almost laughed. She knew he could never fathom her thought process.

"Ha! Plenty," boasted Gaston. " Here," he flopped down into her wooden chair and plopped his muddy boots onto the table- right on top of her book! Belle's heart clenched. Monsieur Caron gave that just yesterday and now it was getting ruined by smelly pig mud. She tried to keep her face calm but the smell of pig and onion was overpowering.

" Picture this!" Gaston continued. " A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire." He leaned back into her chair, hands folded relaxed behind his head, and shoved off his boots. His toes poked through his hole riddled socks. Belle plugged her nose and reached for her book. She had to save it from the mud and stench but his feet still lay on the pages.

 _'Oh no,'_ she realized ' _That stench is his feet?! Poor Morgiana!'_

"And my little wife massaging my feet, as the little ones play on the floor." Gaston then stood suddenly standing inches away from her face.

" We'll have six or seven!" He boasted. Belle snatched up her book as fast as she could. She used her apron to get the muddy goop off the delicate pages. It hadn't soaked in luckily.

 _'Six or seven_ _what?'_ she wondered. The well being of Arabian Nights was far superior to Gaston's rants.

"Dogs?" she asked outloud. She walked towards a cabinet to safely shelve her precious book.

"No Belle,"Gaston laughed. " Strapping young boys, like me," he bolstered, proudly pounding his chest. Belle turned away from him and rolled her eyes.

"Imagine that," she stated flatly. This was absurd. Family planning? How droll. And even more disturbing was imagining seven additional Gaston replicants; ignorant, pompous, and rude. They would be a squad of absolute brutes. She pitied his future wife.

" And do you know who that little wife will be?" Gaston asked. Belle then heard Gaston's heavy footsteps walk up behind her.

' _Wait,'_ Belle's mind calculated his rant. _'He can't seriously be considered marriage?'_ Panic seized her. He was backing her into a corner.

" Let me think, " she stated turning around with her back against the wall. His hands slammed against the wall next to her ears. He had pinned her against the wall.

" You Belle," he leaned in closer to her face. He smiled and his eyes drilled into hers. He looked absolutely manic. Belle felt her stomach churn. There was no reasoning with him. Gaston moved his right thumb onto her chin and dragged it across her jawline. His hands were sickenly soft. Any other woman would be thrilled to feel such soft hands but Belle knew it was from the animal lard of his hunting kills. She had seen him often remove his gloves and apply the lard in the village square. It was a semi daily habit and Lefou carried the tins.

 _'No,'_ Belle's mind panicked. _'This can't_ _be happening!'_

"Gaston, wait, " she interjected.

"Ah, why wait when you are so **_ravishing_** now," he cooed. His hand now stroked her neck and she felt the bile rise in her throat. She maneuvered squirming away under his armpit.

" Gaston!" Belle shouted.

She had to get out of the cottage. Then she could at least make her way to a more public area. He was already so liberal with unwanted touches in public, in here....she didn't want to guess how far he would go.

 _'I have to stay calm though,'_ she reminded herself. ' _Any rejection and he'll go mad. There's no telling what might happen then.'_

" I'm speechless," she stammered stepping backwards toward the front door. She pushed away the terrifying thoughts of Gaston scooping her up and dragging her to her bedroom.

 _'Would anyone hear my screams?'_ Already he was striding towards her again.

" I really don't know what to say," Belle continued putting her forearm across her chest to cover herself. _'He better not go for me there. The triplets may enjoy it, but_ I _won't allow it!'_

" Say you'll marry me," he leered. Gaston moved fast and pinned her again against the door. She fought the urge to slap him and spit in his eye. She moved her hand along the wood feeling for the door handle.

" I'm very sorry Gaston, but I um" Belle stammered. Gaston's eyes now closed and his lips puckered.

 _'He's trying to kiss me again?!'_ her mind shrieked. _'There!'_ She found the door knob.

" I just don't deserve you," she smiled in relief. She turned the door knob and pushed the door open with all her might. Gaston fell out the door as she twisted her body back into the house. 

" But thanks for asking," she shouted waving and smiling goodbye. He continued off balance tumbling off the porch stairs and further down the sloped dirt path.

Splat.

Gaston landed face first into a muddy puddle from the rain the night before. Belle hesitated for a moment. Didn't mean to ruin his clothing entirely. She could tell they cost a fortune.

 ** _Bum,_ _bum_ _bumbum!_** A brass melody sounded.

Belle looked away from the sight of a mud covered Gaston to the music and she was astonished. On the grassy plot across the stream bordering her land, the entire village had gathered in their Sunday best. Fabric covered tables had been laid out with boxwood, mums, and other flowers covering them. The townsfolk musicians were joyously playing their brass horns and an even newer Germanic accordion. The baker stood next to a grand cake several tiers high. It was covered in the finest white frosting. Father Robert stood under a ribbon decorated archway holding a bible. He tilted his head confused at the sight he was beholding.

The young blonde triplet girls raced in their deep plunging neckline country gowns toward Gaston with tears in their eyes. The squat loyal Lefou squatted by the mud puddle trying to help Gaston up. Gaston reached for Lefou's collar and shook him madly but then Lefou patted his arms speaking slowly. Gaston then composed himself. Like a finger had snapped, that smile once again plastered his face and he turned to address the gaping crowd.

" Seems like the bride is getting cold feet. Her Father had to leave on urgent business," he stated warmly opening his arm to the crowd. They all began to nod and mumble to one another. "Worry not! Let's not waste the cake. Come, now to the tavern!"

Belle was horrified.

 _'This is unreal,'_ her mind wheeled. ' _A_ _wedding_?' The whole village was here for a wedding. Her wedding! This conceited horrid man intended to harrass her into marriage in front of everyone.

 _'No!_ ' Belle wanted to scream at them. _'Leave me be!'_ Her fists shook as she stood fixed controlling her rage. _'Oh no, his boots! He'll return for those,'_ she remembered and ran inside. She chucked them out the door on to the dirt path and slammed the door, this time bolting and barring the entrance. 

_'They were all in on it,'_ Belle's mind swirled. She put her hand on her head pushing away her loose chestnut hair. _'They don't care about my wishes at all. They wanted_ _a spectacle._ _A show of their dream wedding.'_

It wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't her dream. This place was too small, too stifling, too simple, too mundane and far too backwards. Wars had left it trudging along unable to catch up with the world. It was stuck in the past. 

_'Papa,'_ she thought. ' _I need you here.'_ She knew the majority of the village men wouldn't listen to her words. To them they were merely the words of a weak sexed woman. Only Papa could address the crowd and put this matter to rest. He had often told her that too many people put too many opinions into his relationship with her Mother and he would never force that sort of unhappiness when it came time for her to choose suitors. But right now he was miles away at the invention gala. He would be away for a week or even longer if he established good business. Belle was certain he would too. His latest log splitting steam mechanism was sure to bring a brilliant success and win prizes at the gala. That left her on her own with this social mess.

 _'Alright._ _A clear head,_ _a clear plan,'_ exhaled Belle. _'First_ _I need to protect myself. Morigina had her swords,_ _I have...'_ she scanned the room.

' _Papa's cane.'_ She picked the oak cane from the stand by the door and held it in her hands like a sword.

 _'Now,_ _I just need to wait for safety, for this crowd to leave. There are too many people out there with too many questions._ _I know most won't listen to my reasoning.Who will though?'_ She thought hard. The bookkeeper? The blacksmith?

 _'Perhaps Father Roberte. If_ _I explain that Papa is gone and Gaston did not properly ask for his blessing, then_ _it will buy_ _me time until Papa_ _returns. And it will avoid any villagers shunning me away from their businesses.'_ The last thing she wanted was the baker refusing to sell them bread because she 'wasted' his cake. That must have cost a fortune. It was all pure white sugar!

Belle chuckled.

' _There is NO possibility of my will being swayed by a cake.I know how the village men treat their wives._ _Those that aren't silent and compliant get bruises and black eyes.'_

' _How could anyone want that?'_ Belle wondered. She reminded herself that most of the womenfolk don't have a choice in the matter though. Their fathers were eager to marry them off and have a heavier coin purse.

' _How could they be so cruel? To treat people worse than their dogs. How is that coveting one's wife? I could never imagine Papa treating Maman that way. I refuse to accept it as the way things are. To be lonely is far more agreeable than terror.'_

She peered through the rippled glass window panes seeing the villager ensemble slowly dismantling the wedding decor. They were meandering to the village but still seemed to be in good spirits. Belle crept to the staircase near the door and sat on the small landing, oak cane in hand. Even the door was now barred, she firmly believed that the villagers could and would find a way to coax her out of the house if they truly wanted to. It frightened her.

' _Maybe they'll bash in the door?_ ' Belle mused.

' _What to do?'_ she sighed leaning against the plaster white washed wall. She had to speak to the priest but he was certain to be at the tavern this evening with the rest of the villagers enjoying the food of the misfired wedding feast.

She would have to wait until tomorrow. It made her feel antsy. She could no longer enjoy her book. She wished she could be more calm and clever like Scheherazade. No such luck though as she found it difficult to control her fast breathing. 

Warm shadows now filled the cottage. Sunset was coming. She crept off the staircase and peered out the window again. All that remained of the crowd were discarded abandoned flowers and greenery littering the empty field. She unlatched the bar across the door and opened it slowly. She poked her head outside.

"Is he gone?" she wondered outloud. Some chickens were roaming on the lime white painted stone porch. They clustered towards her expecting to be fed. She sighed in frustration and stepped outside closing the door behind her. She grabbed a covered pail on the porch and began throwing seed and kernels towards the front of home on the ground. The chickens excitedly flapped down eating the extra evening feed. She walked down the porch stairs towards the roofed pen and stables animal shelter in the back.

"Can you imagine?" Belle stated, fine with speaking to any farm animal who would listen.

"Me? The wife of that boorish brainless.." She saw the goats were all still lazing and contently chewing on weeds in their roofed pen. She laughed putting down the pail. She drew out a hand towel from her white embroidered apron. She wiped the yard dust from her hands.

"Madam Gaston? Can you just see it?" The three goats looked at her interested in her raised voice. She draped the towel on her hair mimicking the other village women who wore scarves on their heads as the slaved way in their homes. They were often too poor to afford a bonnet, or if they could afford one, their husbands saw it as an unnecessary expense.

" Madame Gaston, his little wife." That phrase sickened her. She kicked the pail in frustration spilling the remainder of the seed and kernels. The goats spooked at her outburst, scrambled to the other side of the pen. Chickens flapped thrilled to get to the spilled feed.

" No Sir!" she stated and shook her head.

 _'I guarantee that won't be me,_ ' she thought firmly. ' _I want so much more than that is life of cleaning, cooking and farming and being a breeding heffer to some fool. I want so much more than this provincial life. There's a whole wide world out there. Lands across the sea. Ancient lands of wonder. Spices and foods I've never tasted. Cultures and festivals that are now being explored_.'

She had only read and dreamed of it all but they were just beyond those mountains. Just beyond that sunset. Belle imagined if she ran as far as possible, she could catch the sun and ride into the West.

She dashed away from the cottage leaving the sound of the babbling stream behind her. A chill wind blew as the day light dimmed The warm colored sunset was gorgeous. Fluffy apricot and apple blossom colored clouds dashed across the light blue sky. Belle squinted and scanned the sunset landscape around her.

_'If only I could see that sunset on the ocean once again. I would remember it this time.'_

She could imagine, instead of tree covered mountains,a deep blue sea infront of her with that golden glow. It would have been marvelous. She barely remembered it, but her Papa told her of the trip they once made to a port for his business. She was only three then but the whole family went to get some sea air for the summer.

' _To have an adventure out there, in that great wide somewhere, that's truly what I want. That's my dream.'_

Belle felt she could scream it from the highest snow covered mountain top around and it still wouldn't match the echo of longing in her heart. She moved to lie down in the tall autumn grass and fluffy seeding flowers. The bright sunshine from the day had dried the drab browning grass from previous night's rainy weather. Daydreaming, she picked a round puff of snow white dandelion. It was soft in her hand. She wondered if they grew on the coast. Or if different reeds and sea grasses thrived. Papa had told her stories of their port city journey when Maman was still alive and Claudia and Marie were too.

 _'It must have been wonderful to have everyone together_ ,' she smiled. She hardly remembered any of them, but she could tell by an empty feeling in her heart that they had meant a great deal to her. She hadn't always been so alone. To have someone to share her thoughts and feelings and words with; unbridled and free. Certainly, she loved her Papa and could easily speak to him, but she still felt she had to be cheerful and guarded. He had suffered so much; loosing his wife, eldest daughters, business and home. He only had her left and she did not want to dim his spirits. She would not complain too much around him. She was so grateful to have him as a caring loving father but still…

She so often had these thoughts that she had even made up a rhyme for her feelings.

"For once it might be grand to have some understand," Belle sighed with a sing song voice releasing the dandelion seeds on the wind. They swirled and were carried away. "I want so much more than they've got planned."

**Clank! Clank! Clank!**

A horrible noise of off-road speeding wooden wheels and heavy hoofs thundered from the hills. Belle spun around and rose to her feet to see where it was coming from. She then spotted a large whinnying belgian draft horse clamoring uphill. It was still hitched to a weather worn wooden cart.

"Phillipe!" Belle gasped.

She raised her arms outwards, waving and shouted, racing forward to meet the horse. His eyes were wide and spooked. Allowed him to pass her and she grabbed the loose reigns tugging them sharply. She was dragged a bit forward but continued to pull hard reaching out to his sandy colored neck and white streaked nose.

" Phillipe, steady," she patted his side. He locked eyes with her, recognizing his owner and she shushed him. Belle looked at the cart, but sure enough, Papa was not in it.

 _'Did_ _Phillipe throw Papa off?_ ' she wondered. That seemed unlikely but anything could happen on the road. She looked to the treeline. No sign of her portly gray haired old Papa trudging forward shouting curses at the loose horse.

" Phillipe, where is he?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the hits and kudos. I seriously wasn't expecting so many readers during the 1st week! The fandom is alive and well.☺
> 
> I will try to post new chapters ever 1-2 weeks due to adulting. Such is life.
> 
> This chapter was difficult for me to write as sexual harrassment is a prevelant reality for women around the world. I've thrown my share of punches and kicks. I highly recommend taking self defense, martial arts, yoga, ballet or kick boxing as I have found these activities are great help to minimize the threat of an assault.
> 
> Now history lesson time! In the 1991 film, the brass wedding band has an accordion player. Accordion's weren't invented until the 1820s in Germany and then an international instrumental by 1840s. In the Beauty and the Beast Enchanted Christmas midquel, Lumiere makes a reference to the Black forest which was much larger before the industrial revolution and spread out from Germany into France. So in this work, I've set the timeframe in the 1820s which is post Napoleonic era. This would explain the presence of the accordian. It would also set the story in a Regency era which explains the more relaxed style of the village clothing in the 1991 movie. So think Jane Austen, Counte of Monte Cristo etc as far are setting goes.


	3. Despondent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast dwells on his situation and the past
> 
> Trigger warning: Themes of depression and body shaming

The Beast heard the quiet tapping of metal on his bedchamber door.

" Excuse me, Master," Cogsworth, the majorodomo clock man formally announced, ," there is some food outside your door if you should wish to eat, sir."

The Beast's delicate nose smelled the scents of cooked meats and bread wafting from the door as if the meal tray was laid out in front of him. He tried to speak but his tense voice caught in his dry throat. For the moment, speaking was too much effort for him.  
The Beast knew he should get off the mahogany carved lounging couch and gather the plate of assorted foods. He had been dozing in and out of sleep and it was long past midday. Still, the Beast wondered why he should even bother. It wasn't as if he had starved yet. The wretched curse kept him alive with it's magic when he had tried. A few times he didn't eat or drink for over a month but his attempt to waste away was pointless. Nothing happened save for lethargy. His massive form lost no weight and only his fur coat had lost it's sheen. Starvation was a futile effort. It was simply more comfortable to take meals and avoid the hunger pains.  
The private chamber was dim from gray sunlight filtered by the fog. The Beast's bedchamber was spacious but cluttered with destroyed furniture and carcasses from his hunts. Deep into the room a curved wall protruded outwards with tall glass paneled windows along the curve. The center window blended in a double glass door leading out onto a wide balcony. He lay on the velvet lounging chair near the tall glass windows.

The Beast's eyelids felt heavy as he tried to open them. They fluttered but stayed shut, feeling as if they were pasted together. His head dully ached and his sinuses were stuffed. He felt the burning pain of hunger gnaw at his stomach but he tried to ignored it. Lying still on his side was less effort that sitting up.

Despite these thoughts, his head spun with dizziness. The Beast knew he should sit up and get the tray. Movement seemed to be so very difficult though. His body felt as if it had turned to stone. He opened his eyes slowly. The dizziness faded for a moment but it was much brighter than he anticipated. Despite the never fading fog that shrouded the castle, to his sensitive eyes the autumn sun brightly shone through the tall windows. He was blinded and his felt a sharp pain of his pupils taking in the light too fast.  
He wanted to close the claw shredded navy blue curtains, but that would involve standing as well. He heaved himself, rolling to lay on his back and drapped his fur covered arm over his eyes. His twisted horns pressed into his forearm.  
The Beast sighed in irritation. He hated how those black ribbed horns protruded from his skull. They disgusted him. He wanted to saw them off, but he feared they would grow back even more devilish and goat like. Perhaps the horns would grow in different; like an elk's. It wasn't worth the risk.  
The Beast's head pounded in aching pain. His whole body felt as if he was on a swing. His velvety fur covered folded ears hearded the blood rushing in time with his pounding headache and the dizzy swinging sensation. A horrible rotten taste filled his mouth. His chesnut colored bushy haired canine like tail waved in irritation. He gulped down the acid taste feeling his sharp teeth poke into his tounge.

_' Disgusting_ ,' he thought feeling awufully aware of his fur covered gigantic body. His heart clenched and his wide chest feel heavy. He felt pitiful. He wondered if he would cry but no tears would come. The only complete emotions he really felt nowadays was emptiness or rage. Tears had stopped years before the curse began. That had been disciplined out of him with open handed slaps and sharp canes.  
He rolled over onto his side turning away from the sunlight. He stared at the swirling multicolored grecian marble tiles. The scent of food disappeared. He assumed the staff had taken it away. They always did that after a couple hours.  
He wished he could fall back asleep. He often imagined that if he stayed asleep, his mind might fade away from the curse. It was no use though. The gray light of the room turned to a warmer light and the blue hued shadows deepened. He assumed it was sunset. It was often difficult to tell with the foggy mist .  
A familiar pink glow seemed to grow brighter in the sunset shadows. Near the balcony entrance was an ornately carved pillar of marble. It featured three muscular Atlas like characters holding up the the white marble stone table. Upon the small stand table rested an two foot tall engraved glass cloche. Within the cloche, floating above the stone, was a deep blood red drooping rose; the symbol of his doom. It appeared in his chambers long ago on the night when his fate had been sealed.

The Beast did not want to look at it, but couldn't help himself. The glowing pink magic lured his attention and as usual, he stared transfixed at the magic rose. Glowing specks of magic emerged upward from the auora of the rose's slowly wilting petals. They hovered, slowly spiraling around the rose and around one another like dust motes. Then they eventually floated down onto the marble stone etching a pattern that became clearer and more defined every day since that day; a star with ten small points within a star of ten larger points. Then small strange symbols with each of the larger points. The pattern had been singed into the marble by the rose's magic, even though the specks didn't burn or hurt. Sometimes a petal would fall from the rose and slowly dissipate into the pattern. The whole castle would groan and shake as if an earthquake was happening.

The magic glowing specks mesmerized the Beast. He hadn't noticed how dark the room had become. His eyes grew heavy once again and he slowly drifted off in to a dream.

_In the center of the night shrouded ballroom stood a hunchbacked woman cloaked in mud covered robes. Her hooded cloak seemed to have once been black but was so weather worn, it appeared gray. Her wrinkled pale face was narrow with a slender sharp chin and nose. Her eyes were downcast and black in the night._  
_She reached out her veined cragged hand holding a deep red rose in full bloom._  
_But he had no need of a rose so he waved her away._  
_The hunchbacked women's head snapped upwards and her stare caught his eyes. Her eyes were glittering black, like stars in the night sky._  
_She was no human._  
_Her body straightened, standing tall as the gray muddy cloak fell to the marble ballroom floor. She was clad in sparkling silver greccian style robes. Her skin that appeared wrinkled and bulging veined blurred and became smooth and full like any youth's might be. Her dull gray hair grew brighter, shining a bright platinum. From her hair a golden bay leaf laurel crown with golden roses appeared from nothingness. A bright golden light shone from her like the sun it's self and her whole body appeared ageless. She still held the deep red rose in her soft supple hand and it now glowed with a pink radiance. The windows flew open and gusts of wind pushed outward._  
_He heard screams. His court guests. They were running away. He cannot. Her inhuman eyes, they were changing again. His knees gave out and he knelt before her._  
_Her mouth did not move but her eyes shown molten gold. Her words came from there._  
_He realized. It was an enchantress of old._  
_"Upon thy household, I place this spell for no love reigns thine heart. The thorny vines of hatred have taken root, destroying any love thou encounters. Thoust hath been careless discarding the lives of others and thus a lifetime is forfeit. Thou hath transformed thyself into less than a beast._  
_Unless thou shall learn to truely love another and gain their love in return, thou shall remain a beast for all time. This I cast until the last petal of this rose falls. Now by the will of the powers, I beseech thee, reflect thy true form."_

_The glowing beautiful enchantress threw down the rose. Instead of hitting the floor the rose floated and glowed even brighter pink._  
_The wind echoed? No, not the wind. Those were words?_

_The enchantress was chanting he realized as the wind carried her voice like the sounds of crashing ocean waves._

_Was that Latin?_  
_Her right hand pushed the aurora forward and then her left hand. She then pushed both arms straight out to her sides as if in between two walls._  
_Quinque.....quinque"she repeated, melodic voice echoing like thunder._

_She raised her arms above her head and the glow of her body swirled above. It was as if she held the golden sun itself._

_He wanted to shout, run, anything._

_Instead he felt ensnared by the tendrils of golden sun. A searing pain shot through him. Everything hurt. It was as if all the growing pains he ever had were magnified by a hundred._

_He couldn't help but scream with his eyes shutting tightly in agony._

_But he still saw her in his mind._  
_The tendrils of golden energy reach the castle staff that have lingered, huddled in fear against the walls. They freeze in place and glow. Most of them shrink. All that is left is furniture and household items._

_The enchantress inhales closing her eyes. She exhales facing her chin down and the golden glow ceases. Her platinum hair plummets with her silver robe down to the floor dissipating into thick fog. She is no longer there. The center of the ballroom is empty as the gusting wind pushes the smoke like magical fog outdoors._

_He finds that he has fallen to the cold tile floor and curls up with pain echoing through his nerves._  
_He finally opened his eyes. A monster's clawed fur covered hand is in front of his face instead of his own._

_He screams but a roar comes out instead._

The Beast jolted up gasping for breath. He felt cold and sweaty. He can't seem to stop shaking sitting on the lounging chair in the dark. 

_'Just a dream_ ,' he tells himself. He didn't want to dream of that night though. That night; the night of his curse.

The Beast's memories flooded his mind. He had woken in the dark center of the ballroom floor, he saw strange candelabras and clocks speaking to him with servants voices. He realized they were his servants and that they had been transformed as well. He stood up trying to escape the seemingly possessed items, when he saw his new reflection in a mirror. He thought it might be a trick. Some sort of devilry.

He had ran through the corridors looking for any one with a human face. He was only met with more moving talking objects. He then, ran to his private chambers. He assumed it had to be a bad alcohol induced dream after all. But then, when he had awoke in the morning, he saw the heavenly architecture of his room was indeed transformed into grotesque gothic gargoyles. He also saw his new cursed reflection. The Beast had smashed the mirrors and threw around the furniture in rage. He clawed his handsome face from the royal portrait in anger and slashed his father's face in hatred. He couldn't bring himself to tear his mother's face. She had done nothing wrong after all.

He found himself sitting in front of her pale face asking why this was happening. What did he do to deserve this? Her green blue eyes never answered as she smiled knowingly in an ornate golden dress. He had then moved to lay on his side on the hard floor staring at her, wishing she was here. He stayed there for days. The servant objects eventually came to speak to him. He didn't remember about what. 

After a while Mrs. Potts changed her tone and poured cold water on him.

He almost swatted her away but she moved to quickly. She said she would no longer tolerate such melancholy to endure for weeks from the royal bloodline. She of course was right. He was the Master of the castle and he was acting pitifully. He felt wood and fabric pull on him to move upwards and to the bath. 

The Beast still shook plagued by memories of those terrible days when the curse had ensnared his home and refuge from the concieted politics of the court. The glowing rose caught the Beast's eye. He scowled. He hated it. He hated it's curse. He hated the way it glowed. He hated the way it tormented him with is swirling magic and random falling petals that fell more and more often.He hated the way it smelled tinted with a strange scent he could only assumed was magic itself.

The Beast breathed heavily, still shaken from the dream, full of anger of memories, and the strong rose scent filled his flaring nostrils. There was more to the scent though. A slight scent of honey, orange, lemon and bergamot to the scented rose. This was not the comforting heavy floral scent of the roses on the castle grounds. They specifically had their own hints of jasmine, apple and lily undertones.

He sniffed deeply again. This scent was a different spiced rose scent. A real smell, not one tinged with magic. It was a bit sour too. The scent was very similar to the trespasser's but not as foul and decrepit.

The Beast stood up, sniffing the air. The new scent unnerved him.

"Something strange is going on," he growled to himself and stomped out of his room. He was going to find out what new scent was infiltrating his domain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for the Kudos. It is much appreciated🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
> 
> New chapter update in 1-2 weeks.


	4. Rescuer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle sets out on the road to find her father.

_"Follow the trace for a new start"_

_\- Enigma, Gravity of Love_

* * *

" Where's Papa?" Belle whispered in concern.

The spooked draft horse began to stomp irritated, tossing his head and grunting. His eyes were dull and there was far too much saliva from his mouth. Philippe was thirsty and urgently needed water.

"Easy, Philippe," hushed Belle, petting his neck to calm the towering sand colored horse.

" Where is he?" she sighed.

Her father should have already been miles away preparing for the invention gala. He should have arrived at the far off town last night. Belle scanned the treeline, hoping her portly gray father would stumble out, dishelved and sputtering half nonsense curses at Philippe. Even though Belle's father was more stout and stronger, she always had an easier time at controlling the six and a half foot tall Belgium draft. Although she was lean and nimble, Belle was not at all weak or frail and could ride or drive with ease. Papa seemed often to miss the pothole in the road or loose branch overhead that Philippe was trying to avoid. Despite those flaws, Belle had no doubt that this trip would be easy and straightforward though. The road was straight and then turned left sloping down the mountain,over the river and to a small city closer to Haugenau.

 _'What on earth had happened to him?'_ Belle's stomach dropped. She feared her father to be wounded somewhere on the road. Hardly anyone traveled the local mountain pass from autumn to spring. The fog was too unpredictable and the snows closed the pass for months on end. She doubted anyone else would take that road for days or weeks this late in autumn. It was up to her. She would have to search for her father herself.

" You have to take me to him," Belle told Phillipe. She unhitched his yoke from the wooden cart and heaved it down to rest. She drew him by his reigns to his fresh stable to drink his fill. Checking his legs and hooves for any injuries or lodged stones, she was relieved to find none.

Belle dashed into the cottage to gather what she could. She wanted to grab a glass hanging lantern but Papa had taken it. She also wanted to get assistance from the villagers, but after the afternoon's affairs, she knew it would not be easy to get them to cooperate. The most abled body men were likely indulging in wine and beer at the tavern with Gaston. Dealing with their questions would be a waste of time and near impossible to rally their support.

Belle gathered a canvas pack filling it with bandages, salves, and alcohol for a makeshift kit of medical supplies. She grabbed a waterskin and filled it with a fresh pitcher of water and gathered a bit of bread wrapped in a linen cloth. She slung the supply pack strap over her shoulder and went to the coat hooks bolted on the wall next to the front door. Belle tucked in a plain thin shawl around her shoulders into her cornflower blue stays and fastened her thick navy wool winter cloak. There was no time to fetch gloves or laced riding boots. She guessed they may be in her dressing chest, but wasn't certain. She would have to manage the sores on her hands and feet afterwards.

Going outside to the woodpile, Belle soaked a rag in oil and bound it around a long branch. She would need it soon as the sun was almost set. She dashed back inside and set the oil rag in the dying embers of the fireplace. The torch was lit and she made her way to Phillipe placing the torch in an iron scone attached to the stable.

" I'm sorry, Philippe," she coaxed the large draft horse by his reigns. "We need to go." She wanted to saddle him properly, but she had already spent enough time gathering supplies that her father may need immediately. Belle had allowed Philippe to drink his fill as she didn't want him to collapse from thirst.

Belle climbed up the wooden stable post fencing and swung on to his bare back. Riding was going to be uncomfortable and hurt, but time was of the essence and saddling would waste precious minutes. Improper saddling in a rushed state would also be dangerous as even she, an experienced rider, could fall from an incorrectly placed saddle. Besides, she reasoned her Papa couldn't have gone too far with only one road ahead. With her right hand she reached for the lit makeshift torch. Belle nudged Philippe's ribs with her foot and they set off back onto the road where Papa had traveled on.

She urged Phillipe at a medium trot. They passed the farm lands of the nearest neighbor and then over a familiar stone bridge. Shadowy mountains rose on the right against the faint twilight stars. Belle held the torch aloft hoping to check if Papa was absent mindedly resting alongside the road. She had no such luck though. Philippe slowed to a walk.

" Papa?" She kept calling out. " Papa, it's Belle. Where are you?"

The nearly bare autumn trees grew thicker. Their colorful orange and yellow leaves had been blown to the ground by last night's rain. The trees were denser as they moved further and further away from the village. Sure enough, Belle felt the sting of blisters on her ankles forming under her thin stockings. Philippe's spine was also hurting her thighs as she rode without a saddle.

Based on the darkening of the sky, Belle presumed it had been an hour since she entered the forest. The crisp earthy scent of the fallen leaves filled the air. Still she called out for her Papa. The moon was somewhat visible through the clouds but it was not nearly as bright as two days prior. Belle continued to see deep ruts of wagon wheels in the mud, not completely worn away from the rain. No one else had used this road yet for the day or so since her father had passed this way. She doubted anyone would with how late it was in the year.

Fog swept down off the mountain heights into the bare autumn trees. Belle's light melodic voice grew tired as she continued to call out for her father. She reached a fork in the road with a weathered wooden road sign. It was in poor condition and barely legible with the paint worn away. The forest road was completely enveloped in night now. The mud still showed the direction of the heavy wooden cart. Her father's cart turned uphill and to the right.

' _Papa, you took a wrong turn,'_ Belle groaned. He was supposed to go left, down towards the river, not upward. He had traveled further deeper into the mountains on an abandoned road. Belle urged Philippe on, reassuring him calmly as the horse snorted in dissatisfaction going the uphill road.

The road was becoming more and more narrow and unkempt with high slate slopes and boulders as tall as Philippe on each side of the road. The work of small landslides and erosion that had not been cleared. Belle allowed Philippe to walk even slower, gently speaking to the tense horse to keep him calm. They had to be cautious. A loose stone might jeopardize Philiipe's ankle.

Belle had never taken this route before. She didn't think anybody of the villagers did either. They only used the pass to get to the next town and hunting game was far more plentiful on the opposite southern side of the village. They didn't delve this deep into the north mountain ridge. There were also rumors of wolves in this rocky mountain terrain . The torch was now almost an ember and the moonlight was dim through the fog. Still, no sign of Belle's father appeared.

The road twisted and turned like a labyrinth and the chilled fog grew thicker and thicker blocking out the moonlight. The path was now very dangerous. Belle assumed as she rode upward, there were sure to be cliffs and drops off the mountain ridge. Belle tried not to think of her father tumbling down those sides. It was unlikely considering he would have to scale the high upward sloped stones first.

' _But then again, he may have tried to gather a wayside rose for me,'_ Belle worried. She knew he could have a one track mind sometimes. She found herself the same way when reading or daydreaming, accidently letting food burn or forgetting to feed the animals. _'I hope he wasn't that foolhardy._ '

The small flames of the makeshift torch in Belle's hand flickered to a dark ember and went out.

" Well, that's useless now," Belle sighed. She tossed the charred stick over her shoulder onto the road. Belle judged by the makeshift torch's lifespan, that three hours had passed. It was no use injuring herself or Philippe with no steady light. The search would have to wait.

"Alright, Philipee, just a little further," Belle stated. "We'll stop for the night as soon as we get to a less stoney area." Her ankles burned from the blisters and her thighs were stiff. She knew that her inner thighs would be bruised and sore in the morning.

The tall boulders and ridges bordering the narrow path's upward slopes then stopped. The road was wide and clear. The terrain felt much more flat and no longer at an incline. The wind gusted pushing the fog away. The stars were clear and bright dazzling through wisps of moon glowing clouds.

' _That's winter air up there,'_ Belle thought. _'It must be freezing to shine so bright.'_ Ahead of her, shadows of slender tree branches twisted peculiarly.

 _'No, it's a gate,'_ she realized, drawing closer to the shadows. A large dual iron wrought gate stood before her and the shadow of a huge building was outlined on the opposite side.

"What is this place?" Belle gasped. What was a building doing here? Phillipe stopped in his tracks and snorted. He stomped his front legs, whinnying unhappily.

" Easy, easy boy," Belle coaxed him and petted his neck. He snorted some more, clearly not entirely calm at the situation.

"Both you and me," Belle spoke quietly to Philippe to soothe him. " I know. I don't like the feel of this place. It feels....out of place somehow. As if it shouldn't be here. Almost as if it shouldn't exist."

Belle slid off Philippe to dismount and her hips and tailbone ached from stiffness. Her ankles felt warm from the bloody riding sores. She regretted not knowing where she had placed her calf high boots last. She tiptoed in her soft leather flats closer to the towering ornate dual gates. It was embellished with leaves, branches and other flourishes like birds and apples. She guessed it stood at least fifteen feet tall. It was amazing.

 _'Who knew that this was in the forest?'_ Belle marveled. _' I never heard the villagers make any mention of a place like this. And I didn't see it on the maps in Monsieur Caron's shop.'_

She saw a familiar heap of cloth on the gravel ahead. She pulled one the ornate gates and it opened with ease. She dashed towards the sage green cloth.

"Papa," she whispered stooping and reaching for the sage green scarf. She drew it close to her chest squinting to see the large stone building clearer.

_'What is that? Is that where Papa went?'_

Belle went back and led Phillipe by the reigns in through the gates. Even though it was shadowy dark with the moon now clouded, Belle could make out an open wide gravel path ahead of her with a stone border reaching to her waist. Shadowy statues lined the stone border but it was too dark to see their features. The sounds of a fast rushing river came from further down and a steady gusting of cold wind.

 _' There must be a drop off nearby,'_ Belle reasoned. ' This must be a bridge.'

She made her way closer and closer to the entrance of the dark monolith in front of her. She passed through an arched entranceway to what seemed to be a large front courtyard. The features of the building ahead were impossible to see in the night.

 _'I wonder, '_ Belle pondered ' _is this a castle or manor of some sort? If so? Where are the guards? Why are there no lanterns lit? Is this abandoned? Is Papa inside?'_

She got to the massive stone entrance steps and left Philippe at the foot of the stairway. She saw the silhouette of a set of stone railings on each side and centered herself between. She reached the top of the stairs and put her hand out to feel the dark- a door. A large heavy wooden door was in front of her. Belle pushed and the door was incredibly heavy. She used both hands putting her full weight against the door and it groaned open.

Belle cautiously entered the building. It was dark inside save for four candelabras situated on two rows of towering pillars. The pillars were made of swirled emerald colored marble. At the top of each pillar carved in the stone, were mythical horned creatures holding the ornate vaulted lobby ceiling on their backs. Ahead of her was a grand stone staircase, at least twenty steps across, leading to more shadows. Belle now knew for certain she was in a castle. She walked in further.

 _'Someone must be here or else the candelabras wouldn't be lit,'_ she reasoned.

" Is anyone here?" Belle called out hesitantly. Her voice echoes into the chilly shadows.

There was no reply. She wished there was more light to see more clearly. She felt so sleepy and sore. A part of her wanted to run outside and take Philippe back home and sleep soundly in her warm bed. But, Philippe had led her here and her father's scarf had been discarded outside of here. Finding her father was her mission.

 _'Papa must be here,_ ' she reasoned. She walked slowly towards the grand staircase.

"Papa?" Belle called out again. The high vaulted ceilings overhead were hidden in the shadows. She climbed the first flight of stairs and turned right climbing more stairs onto the second level. Belle wandered in a mix of amazement and fear.

Scattered sparsely throughout the level were a handful of lit candelabras that barely cast any light into the galleries. There were so many ornate doors. Some were double doors, some smaller alcoves, some were large archways leading to more corridors and some slender stone stairs that lead downwards or upwards. Sprinkled along the walls were such grand stately furnishings; velvet sitting benches, beautifully carved chairs, tapestries larger than her bed, so many oil paintings, and ornate painted vases on pedestals. Even in her childhood home in the city, she would have never had dreamed of such lavish furnishings. This was true wealth and power displayed in these walls.

A part of her yearned to gaze upon it all and take in their artistic beauty but wariness gripped her mind. Mingled in with the furnishings were grotesque and anguished stone carvings. Mythical winged snake creatures, minotaurs, dragons, horned devils and other gargoyle creatures were carved into the stonework. They twisted along the marble columns. They were tucked above doorframes and they loomed from the ceiling. Towering statues of creatures were displayed on pedestals and commanded fear and authority. It made her feel uneasy.

 _'As if being in the dark and lost isn't eerie enough,'_ Belle thought. ' _How can such lovely things be housed in such horrific design.'_

Continuing to search, Belle felt exhaustion set in. The chores of the day, the panic of the unplanned marriage proposal and her journey through on the mountain road made her mind and body feel heavy. However her heart raced making her drowsiness turn to nausea. She climbed another set of stairs and looked out over a balcony of the third level. It looked over a dark atrium.

"Papa?" she called out. She wandered down the corridors and found much of the same with many more single doorways, sparse candelabras and far more large windows. The design had turned from marble ornamentation to plaster flourishing work. She wondered if these corridors held more private apartments.

 _'If Papa is here, he could be in any of these rooms,'_ Belle thought. She put her hand to her head. She had a headache. ' _It must be the stress. I have to continue. He could be hurt_.' The corridor continued straight ahead in one direction and also to the right another direction. Belle thought she heard a muffled voice within one of the rooms. She turned right towards the voice.

"Papa?" she called out hesitantly.

' _What if someone else is here?'_ she pondered. ' _Would they be friendly or perhaps unfriendly?'_

Belle was greeted with silence. She continued her search further along the corridor. There were so many rooms and halls to search. She wondered if she would find her Papa after all. She then reached the end of the corridor where a large painting hung on the dark wall.

' _Maybe I imagined a voice,'_ Belle wondered. ' _I hope I didn't. I don't feel that exhausted to be hallucinating_.'

She put her hand on her forehead to check for a fever, but didn't feel anything out of the ordinary.

" Papa, it's me, Belle!" she called out again.

Belle heard a creak of a wooden door behind her. She spun around. The door she had just walked past was cracked open slightly. There was a faint light glowing from within.

"Papa?" she called out. Her voice echoed down the hall.

" Is anyone here?" she asked pushing the plain door open further. Inside she smelled the earthy scent of cool stone. This was not like the rest of the castle at all.

 _'This must be a part of the original castle stonework,_ ' Belle presumed. She heard echoing droplets of water and saw a spiraling staircase in front of her. One half lead up and the other lead down. There ahead of here on the walls of the narrow spiraling staircase was a candle glow. It was moving upward.

"Wait please!" Belle called out. "I'm looking for my father." She raced up the stairs as fast as she could. She guessed she had gone up another three levels and was thankful for being accustom to using the staircase at her cottage home.

Belle finally caught up with the glowing of the bobbing light, but only saw a lit candelabra within an alcove in the stone walls. The candelabra had been there for a while as it had quite a bit of dripping bumpy wax accumulated from it's candles.

"That's funny," she whispered to herself. " I was sure I saw someone."

 _'Who put this candelabra here? Did I honestly see the light moving?'_ Belle's mind whirled with confusion. _'Did I hear a voice? Could there be a wright? Or a will-o-wisp? Am I actually alone? Or is there some otherworldly forces about this place?'_

She reached the foot of the spiral stone stairs and looked out at the dark stone level. She saw several pillars made of large medieval rectangular shaped stones and iron scones on each. A single flaming torch rested in one of those scones. This place was not like the rest of the castle decor. It was dark, dank, plain and stoic. Along the stone walls were rows of thick worn wooden doors lined up next to each other with several small narrow bars and a slot at the bottom. Belle realized that the doors were holding cells. This tower was not a large enough to be a jail but could easily house enough prisoners should there be a castle attack or dispute.

Uneasiness gripped Belle's stomach. The cold mildew and musty scent offended her nose.

"Is anyone here?" she called out. The was the torch and candelabra so someone must have been there recently. It made no sense to waste light otherwise. She hoped no one would answer her call on this dismal floor.

"Belle?" she heard a weak old male voice whisper.

 _' No!'_ she silently pleaded. Belle's mind raced. ' _I must have imagined that. He can't be here. He's on the road, not here. Not in this awful place.'_

She heard a familiar dry coughing. It sounded so much worse than before. A chubby calloused hand reached out of the cell bars. Belle wanted to collapse and cry. This couldn't be happening. She ran to grasp the reaching hand.

"Papa!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many folks are stuck at home out at the moment as schools,stores, and resturants are shutting down internationally. I wish I could write faster to help entertain all of you, but for me it's business as usual as I work for the clerical side of the medical field in the US. As of now chapters will continue at a 1-2 week pace at the moment as I continue working thru this critical time.  
> Stay smart and safe readers!😷😷😷


	5. Captor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle finds her father imprisoned by a suprising captor.

_What you need and everything you'll feel_   
_Is just a question of the deal._

_\- Enigma, Gravity of Love_

* * *

Belle raced forward into the dark floor of the prison tower. She grabbed the blazing wooden torch from the stone pillar and knelt down on the damp cold floor, grasping the chubby old hands reaching out from behind the iron bars. She had found her lost Papa in a situation she never could have imagined- imprisoned in an unknown castle deep in the forest. He huddled against the thick wooden door and squeezed her hand tightly. His rough hands that had been dedicated to decades of mechanical work were frigid. He was far too cold. Belle put his hand to her cheek trying to comfort and warm him.

"How did you find me?" Maurice, Belle's father sputtered in amazement. His ruddy complexion was far more pale than she had ever seen. He coughed and she could hear the mucus rattling in his lungs.

"Your hands are like ice," Belle frowned. She could tell her Papa was growing dangerously ill. Pneumonia could set in easily in this cold damp place. "We have to get you out of here."

Belle inspected the door, moving the flame higher to see if there was a lock she could pick. She had learned how to loosen springs and gears assisting her father in his workshop. She presumed a lock would be no different. To her dismay it appeared that the door was more complex with a lever mechanism attached to the wall. Maurice cupped Belle's hand between both of his. He sniffed his stuffy nose.

" My dear Belle," Maurice squeezed tighter and tugged her hand." You must listen to me. Not a moment too loose." Belle looked back at his frantic blood shot eyes. "I want you to leave this place," he nodded with conviction.

" No!" Belle snapped. There was no reason for her Papa to be suffering like this. He would never harm anyone or anything. She was furious.

"Who's done this to you?" Belle scowled. Her father felt so cold and seemed so afraid. He was never a frail man. ' _Who could have overpowered him and locked him here against his will?'_ she quietly questioned.

"There is no time to explain," Maurice shook his head. He glanced behind her fearfully searching the rest of the floor. He looked back into Belle's eyes with steadfast certainty. "This castle- it's alive. You must go. Now! Before he returns."

"No!" Belle declared. "I won't leave you!"

' _Who returns?'_ Belle wondered. Who had made her father so terribly ill within a day's time. _'I will most certainly find out who. And what did Papa mean by the castle is alive? But first things first.'_ Belle's priority was treating her father with whatever ailments were urgent. And that meant freeing him from that dank cold stone cell.

"What are you doing here?!" a deep voice bellowed from behind her. Belle's heart froze from shock. It sounded like a bear had shouted.

"RUN BELLE, RUN!" Maurice's voice cracked in terror.

Before Belle could turn around she felt the blazing torch yanked away from her hand. She yelped from surprise, trying to hold on to the torch but was pulled up and spun around. She fell to the floor on her hands and knees. Belle was stunned. She could control stubborn goats and even Philippe. She wondered who could have pulled her around.

The torch landed in a puddle off in the distance and the room fell dark. Instinct took hold of her and she flattened her back against the stone wall. She gripped the strap of her emergency pack. Slender beams of moonlight shone from narrow window slits above. Belle saw the sweeping fabric of a caped shadow move away from her into the darkness.

' _Someone IS here,_ ' Belle's mind froze, the thoughts of haunting spirits coming to mind. _'Someone of flesh and blood'_ , she reminded herself. Her eyes searched out into shadows trying to spot the shadowed figure.

"Who's there" she called out, still alarmed. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" boomed the deep voice. "Another intruder?" The voice seemed to sneer suspiciously.

"No!" Belle shouted. She wouldn't tolerate false accusations about her. Not after finding her Papa in such a state. She presumed that this person was the responsible party. After all, she hadn't seen anyone else in the castle. "I've come for my father. Please let him out. Can't you see, he is in poor health?"she pleaded. She heard a rough scoff from the shadows.

"I am Master of this castle," the shadow rumbled. "Your father trespassed and attempted to steal."

"No," Belle shook her head in disbelief. "Liar!"

The shadowed castle lord made a guttural growl.

"No, Belle," Maurice cried out. "He means the rose. I tried to take a rose. From the gardens."

" A rose?" Belle asked, baffled.

' _The simple hothouse single rose that I asked for?'_ Belle thought. _'Unbelievable!'_

"A life sentence for a rose!" she shouted challenging the shadowed castle lord. "Honestly?"

"I received eternal damnation over a one! You couldn't possibly understand the true value of things," growled the shadow. " The punishment stands."

"This is absurd," gasped Belle. She felt agitated and frantic. " I'm sure there is a misunderstanding. He could die. Please I'll do anything!"

  
"There is nothing you can do," the shadowed figure's low flat voice seemed to move further away. "He's my prisoner now."

' _He's leaving,'_ Belle realized. _'If he goes, I might not be able to find him again in this huge castle. Papa will get worse and I could loose him too. Just like Mama and Claudia and Marie. Think. Think!'_

"Oh there must be something," Belle pleaded. Her mind whirled. Mercy obviously wasn't this person's forte. This person favored crime and punishment- an eye for an eye. Something of equal value would need to be offered, but she had nothing on her. And surely offering their cottage would be meaningless to the master of this huge castle. Tit for tat was needed.

"Wait!" Belle called out to the shadow reaching out her hand. The shadowed figure stopped.

' _Yes, tit for tat,'_ Belle reaffirmed to herself. ' _A life for a life._ ' She drew her hand over her heart in a fist and and took a breath to resolve her courage.

"If it was a rose my father took, then it was the rose I asked for," Belle state, closing her eyes. She sighed and looked up at the shadow. She could see a slight gleam off the whites of his eyes. She fixed her stare at them to implore her resolve.

"Take me instead."

"You?!" the shadowed figure grunted cynically turning away. Then the shadowed castle lord stood unmoving. There was a long silence.

"You would take his place?" he asked in a quiet low voice. He sounded full of dismay and confusion.

"No Belle!" Maurice weakly cried out. "You don't know what you're doing!" A coughing fit seized him and he wheezed trying to catch his breath.

' _Oh Papa,_ ' Belle sighed woefully. ' _I wish I didn't know. But you're life is worth more than my freedom.'_ Belle felt dizzy at the gloomy prospect of life in a prison cell, but at least then her Papa would be safe. And at least this castle lord had some reasoning behind his action. They were unjust, unkind, and unfair reasons, but there was a chance that with intelligence she may reason and win back her freedom.

"If I did," Belle spoke to the shadow "would you let him go?" She must make sure the trade was solid. It was a drastic trade but what choice did she have? The situation was serious.

"Yes, you have my word. But..." he stated. Belle saw the burgundy fabric of a cape swirl outward as he turned to face her. "but you must promise to stay here forever."

' _Forever?_ ' Belle wondered. ' _Surely a rose isn't worth a lifetime of imprisonment. Why ask such a thing? And forever with whom?'_ She had not seen the castle lord's face once during their discussion. He paced in the shadows and she could not make out his features other than he was very tall, wore a cape, perhaps a horned helmet, and his eye's glinted remarkably bright from the moonlight.

"Come into the light," Belle requested. She was curious who she was dealing with.

The shadowed castle lord hesitated and exhaled. A fur covered boot thudded onto the moonlight stone. It looked like a giant wolf's foot, clawed with four black claws. Belle thought it eccentric with the black shredded trousers in disrepair and long burgundy cape. She wondered if the costume with the horned helmet indicated he was an opera fanatic? The castle lord also wore matching golden brown fur covered gloves with black claws extending from the fingers. The figure slowly shifted into the moonlight as if it burned painfully. The wheels of Belle's mind spun as the figure moved further into the light. The figure's wide hunched muscular chest was covered in golden brown fur as well. A bushy long canine tail swished between the trouser covered legs.

This was no eccentric winter fur ensemble.

Belle's eyes grew in disbelief as the figure's face was exposed to the light. A thick bear like neck and a caramel colored goatee like beard. A hooked but bison like nose and sharp boar like teeth protruding from a dark lower lip. Twisting black horns set over thick caramel blonde eyebrows and deep set brilliant sapphire blue eyes staring down at her.

' _It's a monster?'_ Belle gawked. ' _This can't be! It's a creature from a fairy story. Is it a Grecian minotaur chimera of old? It shouldn't exist. This couldn't....this can't be happening'_ Belle fell back against the cell door and gasped covering her hands over her mouth. _'But it's real!'_

"No Belle!" Maurice protested. He grabbed Belle's hands with his frozen hands. She looked up into his eyes. They were bloodshot and puffy. His face was pale and beads of sweat were on his brow. "I won't let you do this!"

' _He won't last much longer,_ ' Belle understood. She closed her eyes and tried to press her lips together in a smile.

 _'It's going to be fine, Papa'_ she wanted to say, but she worked her warm hands away from his grasp. She set the canvas bag aside on the ground.

Belle pushed herself off the stone floor to stand. She had read enough stories to realize why the demands of the creature seemed so unreasonable- magic was at work here. And now she was binding an oath to magic. Her legs were stiff and cold from sitting on the ground. She clasped her hands over her heart and closed her eyes.

' _Give me strength,'_ she silently pleaded.

She took a slow step towards the creature, or as he called himself, the Master of the castle. She then took another step and another. She could feel his hot breath panting down on her face. She turned her chin upwards, eyes shut tight.

' _Now or never!'_ Belle urged herself. She cast her hands down to her sides balled up in fists.

"You have my word." Belle stated. The oath was set.

"Done!" The creature barked. Belle felt his bulk rushed towards her. She couldn't breath.

' _Did he mean ' **forever'** as in death forever?'_ Belle thought terrified. She wondered if he was to kill her on the spot? But the huge creature pushed her shoulder out of the way to get to the cell gate behind her. Belle finally could draw in breath and despair washed over her.

' _That cell is my life now,_ ' Belle thought. Her knees were weak and she felt lightheaded as if she would faint. She sank to her knees as her throat constricted and her stomach felt as if she would retch. Belle curled into a ball and felt the stone floor press against her head.

' _My life...'_ Belle thought at grief for her freedom overwhelmed her. Her hands curled into fists fighting back tears.' _There's no possibility of escape anymore.'_

"Belle no!" exclaimed Maurice. Belle felt her Papa's familiar hand squeeze upon her navy cloaked shoulder. He crouched next to her and pulled her into a hug.

"Listen to me. Don't do this. I've lived my life." Belle gazed at his worried face. She felt the tears unwillingly gather in her eyes.

' _It's alright,'_ she reminded herself. ' _This is all for him. Papa is safe. He'll live now.'_ If her storybooks had any lessons to be taught, it was that agreements with magic creatures were often honored so long as the conditions were met. Still her Papa looked so worried.They clasped hands and she fought to hold back tears. She pressed her forehead against her Papa's. His bristly gray eyebrows tickled her forehead. His hand patted her hair. He clung to her hands but then she felt his hand yanked away.

" Wait!" Belle cried out, reaching for her father. He couldn't be gone from her life so soon. The creature was dragging her Papa by the scruff of his brown cloak toward the spiral staircase.

"Belle!" Maurice called out, reaching both his hands towards her.

"Wait!" Belle crawled closer to the stairwell.

' _Let me say goodbye!'_ Belle wanted to scream but a lump caught in her throat. She heard her Papa's begging cries down the stairs.

"Please, spare my daughter."

Belle wanted to run after them. She wanted to beat that creature senseless and run. She knew it was no use. She had made a promise and to break it would mean he father would die.

Belle sat still in the quiet on the cold stone floor. The narrow shafts of moonlight dimmed behind clouds leaving her in utter darkness. Her stomach felt hard and the lump in her throat made it hard to breath. She realized she was shivering but wasn't sure if it was from fear or from the cold.

She then heard faint cries of her father. Belle gasped from surprise. The sound of her father's voice came from inside the cell. She stood up hesitantly. That cold stone cell was about to be her life and she had no desire to enter it. Although, it seemed there was a narrow window within. She reluctantly stepped into the straw covered cell and went towards the window. Looking downward she saw a wide ravine illuminated by the moonlight with a wide stone bridge reaching the other side. A closed carriage crawled along the bridge like a spider. Belle wondered if her mind was already unraveling from grief.

' _No?!'_ Belle gasped. 'It _can't be walking? Where are the wheels? The horses?.'_ She reasoned it was more enchantments though- a magical carriage kept by a cursed creature. She heard the quiet thuds below from inside the carriage. Maurice muffled cries sounded from within.

"Please! Please let me out!"

The closed carriage walked on it's running gear past the tall ornate gate and into the trees. It grew silent and the howling of the ravine river and wind sounded. Belle was now alone. She would never see her father again.

Belle couldn't hold back the tears that overwhelmed her. She let out a sob. Her father was her one true friend. He was always there for her. Her knees gave out and she sank with her back against the wall. She shook her head overwhelmed. Her mind tried to calculate other outcomes, where the mistakes had happened. There was no way she could have predicted this- a hidden castle with a cruel magical monster lord. Maybe, if Gaston hadn't been such a lecherous brute, she might have been able to ask for help on her search and journey. He, however, was volatile and just as dangerous. She didn't have a doubt in her mind that he would have taken advantage of her in the forest alone. That had not been an option.

A cold lonely cell to rot in or being forced upon and forced marriage to save her shreds of honor. Either one was a prison. At least this choice was less violent. Fate had offered her horrible choices.

Belle cried for what seemed to be forever burying her eyes into her arms as she sat knees hugged to her chest. She cried until the gut burning sobs subsided into quiet hyperventilating tears and a runny nose. She knew her dreams of adventure and companionship were over.


	6. Resident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast is trying to make sense of what this new castle resident means to him and Belle is grieving for her situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for reading and the kudos. I do appreciate it. I’m trying to get a blend of the Disney 1991 Beauty and the Beast, the Broadway Disney musical, the 2017 remake, and tad of the original Madame de Villeneuve story (where Belle is absolutely certain the Beast is going to eat her).🍽  
> I hope y’all enjoy. It should take another 1-2 weeks for the next update due to my real office staying open during this time.🥀🥀🥀🥀  
> Yay essential workers!😷😷😷

* * *

_In the eye of the storm you'll see a lonely dove.- Enigma, Gravity of Love_

* * *

The Beast stood outside in the cold wind. Hardly any fog shrouded the castle tonight. The stars and moon shone through the gaps of the racing heavy clouds.

' _How long has it been since I've seen the stars so clearly?'_ he wondered in surprise. ' _Not since the spell began. Could it be the fog lifting? What's happening?_ ' He looked back at the shadowed castle outline against the stars. He spotted the old tower spire.

' _Is it the girl? No,'_ he corrected himself ' _certainly not a girl. Much older than five and ten years but no older than five and twenty, I would guess. Belle, her name was? Very fitting. Belle, the woman in my castle.'_

 _'Could she...'_ he hesitantly hoped ' _could she be the key?'_

He instantly rebuked himself, shaking his head. Those naive ridiculous thoughts had no place for his mind. No one could ever love him in his horrible form. How could that ever be? He tried to make sense of **what** had just transpired within a matter of minutes. Standing out here in the moonlight air, it seemed as if it were already a lifetime ago.

His delicate nose had followed the unfamiliar floral scent that wafted slightly on the breeze. Following the scent from his room and throughout the corridors of the royal apartments, it seemed to grow stronger permeated the other floors. He then picked up another familiar scent. A faint hint of dry blood. 

His stomach grumbled at the idea of a fresh kill and it irritated his dizziness further. Not eating all day had aggravated his cursed animal senses. He followed the scent through the royal galleries to the old tower where the prisoner was held.

After an exhausting day of struggling against melancholy, the Beast had almost forgotten about the prisoner. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the prisoner. He honestly didn't care what was to become of the old man. He supposed he would eventually make a decision concerning the man's fate. Or the man would die before he reached a proper decision. It wouldn't affect the Beast either way. It wasn't an immediate decision like a tax or some political act that needed to be handled. It was a single common criminal, not a matter of importance. Not that he had dealt in important state matters at any point anyhow. That impossibility was confirmed long ago with his half brothers and uncles securing the realm. He had only been a prince by name, tucked away in his mountain home, out of sight and out of mind from anyone ensuring it was impossible for him to have any real political power. Then again, it now was enough trouble to deal with waking up as a monster. Each day-filled with headaches, pain, rage and nightmare memories.

How could he have guessed anyone would come to seek out and defend the criminal, much less the man's daughter? Sure, the old man had said something about a daughter when he was dragged into the cell, but the Beast assumed it was a rehearsed pity act intended to fool bleeding hearts. 

But then, there she was, Belle. A graceful figure cloaked in navy blue smelling of spiced rose, orange, honey, bergamot and blood. The Beast had initially thought she was a sly wretched trickster trying to break her old man free. When he had reached and spun the girl around, he hadn't expected such a beautiful pale face. Her hazel eyes had burned with such anger though. 

For a moment he thought she might be another enchantress come to curse him once more. Panic had overtaken him and he rushed away from the torch light into the shadows. The torch went out in a puddle, leaving the floor in moonlight and darkness. It was more comfortable in the shadows. He realized then that she was no enchantress.

Still, the Beast couldn't bear to be seen. Her father was wrinkled enough that he was reminded of the crone that had cursed him and the Beast was able to grow accustomed to her father in the shadows. But her young round gorgeous face...he hadn't seen anyone without makeup or adornments look like that in years. She didn't have any scars of any pox or pimples either.

Then Belle started to plead for father's freedom. He would not be swayed by the sympathyies of a sob story. She begged, using pity as a tactic, but at least she spoke normally unlike her simpering coward of a father. Her father hadn't even thought of offering payment for his offense. She was trying to be practical and bargain. He almost admired that.

He was caught off guard when Belle had blurted out ' _take me instead_.'

At first he thought it was a farce. Something that she would automatically take back after her father argued that he wouldn't allow it. But she stayed firm. The Beast was shocked. How could she care for her father so much? She was willing to sacrifice so much for him, just for her father to be free.

' _Then again,'_ the Beast mused. _'if it were my mother locked in one of those cells, wouldn't I trade places with her?'_

He shook his head in frustration. The situation was unbelievable. It truly made him feel like a monster. But the man had trespassed and tried to steal those royal roses. The Beast couldn't ignore the offense. Still, how could anyone give up their freedom so easily. Was she witless as well?

Then he remembered the enchantress's words. 

**" _Unless thou shall learn to truly love another and gain their love in return, thou shall remain a beast for all time."_**

Then for the first time in years he felt a surge of hope; this girl, she might be able to love him and break the spell on him. If there was any shred of a possibility that this girl might come to love him, he would desperately take it. Though, it may take years, decades even. She would have to stay with him, forever if he had any chance of breaking the curse. There hadn't been any other chances. No courtiers dared visit the castle. In fact, no one did. Not one letter was sent to the castle. The enchantress's curse seemed to have made the world forget about their existence. And that only drove him to further melancholy and isolation. He wouldn't dare show his face in society. He would be killed by any guards on site before he could speak to any person of reason. So he was resigned to the castle all these long years.

Belle then asked him to come into the light. He had forgotten she couldn't see him. It was no wonder she was so ready to offer her freedom for her father's crime. She hadn't seen his hideousness yet. He hated it, but he knew it was cowardly to hide while negotiating a deal. He stepped into the light and his sensitive eyes stung with pain from the moonlight. Belle gasped and fell back in fear clinging to her father. The Beast assumed the trade was off. She had seen him as he was now. It was impossible that she; the daughter of a common thieving trespasser whom he had imprisoned, it would be impossible for her to fall for him. While he was aware women were desperate for the comforts of marriage and could easily feign affection to any lord that dressed and fed them, but in this cursed state, that could never be. Only a mad woman could fall for him and he was not partial to the dribblings of the delusional. 

But then, Belle stood back up and approached him. She seemed so tiny and slender compared to him. He was ready for her to take back her offer. Instead, naive hope ensued.

“You have my word,” she proclaimed.

Those words rang loud and clear like church bell in his ears. He had to take the slim chance-NOW.

"Done!" he quickly agreed. 

He opened the cell as fast as he could and the old man clamoured out hugging his daughter. He tried to convince her to go back on the deal. The Beast couldn't risk it. He would have none of that. THIS was HIS one chance and now he could be rid of the groaning old canker as well. 

The Beast took the man out of the old tower before he could change his daughter's mind. He was not going willingly, trying to go back to his daughter and pleading for her life, so he was forced to drag him along. The old man was absolutely annoying. It wasn't as if he would eat the girl!

"She's no longer your concern," the Beast had told the man. He commanded the coachman with a false wooden leg who had been transformed into a wheeless carriage to send the man back to the village. The man shouted and cried out as the carriage walked off on it's undercarriage gear into the dark woods. 

Now he stood alone staring at his dark castle before him. He was unsure about his feelings. It was neither rage, irritation or grief. Was it dread? It was a similar feeling when he was expected to address his guests or the other court members, but not as irritating. He thought harder searching the recesses of his mind. What was this feeling?

Memories of him standing in the center of his bedchamber as a boy came to his mind. He remembered hearing the clicking of rushed heeled footsteps walk closer and closer. The heavy door slammed wide open and his painted and powdered father seethed. Pain would always follow.

The Beast shook his head. Those were the feelings of dread from the past. Not his current feelings now. At least, he presumed so...

His father was long dead and even as a monster he was still master of his castle home. And his current predicament was dealing with this Mademoiselle Belle residing in HIS home. He walked back in through the side door he had exited.

She had traded her life with her father's and it was as simple as that. He wondered, however,why the man's life was at risk in the first place? He seemed to be quite healthy arriving in the cold rainy night. The Beast had to admit, the man's health did rapidly decline within the day of imprisonment. Perhaps the cell was colder and more damp than he realized.

' _Will the girl fall ill as well?'_ he pondered. ' _Or worse..._ ' The old tower door was still open. The steps were tall and there were many sharp swords and spears adorning the castle galleries.

' _Would she find a way to shorten her stay?'_ he feared. ' _Suicide?'_

She wouldn't be the first to commit such a desperate act within that castle. The Beast grew more concerned.

 _'Damn. I must go see to her, then,'_ he thought as he quickened his pace. The Beast dashed up the stairs of the old spiraling prison tower on all fours. He huffed in irritation as his claws stomped on each stone step.

"Master?" It was Lumiere. He was standing still on the alcove shelf.

' _Well at least he's there in case she was to do anything harmful,'_ though the Beast. _'But what does he want? Can't he see I'm busy?!'_

"What?" snarled the Beast. If Lumiere was planning some sort of lecture, he swore he would throw the candelabra man down the stairs. He was in no mood.

"Since the girl will be staying with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more comfortable room," Lumiere fiddled his arm like candles as if he were twiddling his thumbs. It annoyed the Beast. The Beast felt his patience slipping and sneered his sharp teeth protruding. 

' _A mere peasant girl? A prisoner? Into a comfortable room?'_ the Beast scoffed disgusted. ' _Ugh. It makes sense though. If there's any chance of affection if it will never come from staying in the cell. And it will be no use if she falls ill and dies. It's so irritating!'_

He growled out of annoyance and rushed by Lumiere towards the prison cells.

"Then again, maybe not!" squeaked the frightened candelabra.

The Beast reached the top of the stairs. The young woman wasn't there. He heard the soft sobs coming from the open cell.

' _Did she already go in there?'_ he wondered. ' _Willingly?_ ' The Beat felt his ears feel warm and buzz. His throat felt knotted. It was strange.

He walked closer to the cell. It smelled disgusting. The old man had obviously relieved himself within. The Beast felt even more nauseated when he saw her curled up crying in the cell. Even with his thick fur coat covering his form, he could still feel the frigid air. The young woman who had glared at him with such defiance appeared broken and crumpled, sitting on the floor. 

His heart dropped. He had taken his chance at procuring the woman who might be able break the curse, but the reality was there could be no hope. He was already failing.

* * *

Belle heard muffled voices from beyond the cell. She stayed curled up sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and her head hidden by her crossed arms. One of the voices was definitely the creature's. She heard him snarl and growl. His footsteps drew near.

 _'If that monster had any shred of kindness at all, then I wouldn't be this dilemma,'_ she reasoned. _'If he had just assisted Papa and let him be none of this would have happened. Why on earth did a rose matter anyways?'_ Belle felt anger grow within her. She raised her head slightly. His shadow stretched out in front of her on the floor. This was all his doing. 

"You didn't even let me say goodbye," Belle's voice cracked staring at the floor. She then dared to raise her eyes. The fur covered chimera still stood in front of her, just watching. She didn't care if she offended him and was turned into a frog or stone. This was all his fault. Belle pushed herself using the wall and rose to her feet. Her legs were stiff and numb from the cold floor. 

"You didn't even let me say goodbye!" Belle shouted. She felt the tears well up uncontrollably again. She clenched her fists. "Now I'll never see him again!"

The chimera castle lord looked down and scratched his neck. He looked a bit like a confused bear. Belle sighed feeling exhausted. The creature wasn't going to growl or roar back at her. Her chest felt cold and aching from crying. 

" You didn't even let me say goodbye...," Belle said softly, turning to look down at the floor. Her lips felt chapped from crying. Her cheeks felt itchy and dry, no longer hot and burning. She wanted to scream at the creature before, but now she felt hollow and numb. Like she was just a shell of sorrow.

"I will escort you to your chambers," the chimera castle lord rumbled deeply.

' _What did he say?'_ Belle puzzled. _'A room? Not the prison cell? Maybe I am to stay in the servants quarters. The castle may need cleaning and repairs. Hard labor instead of a jail cell? It's servitude either way...'_

"My chambers?" Belle questioned. "But I thought..." The creature cut her off.

"Do you..." he gestured to the cell. "do you want to stay in the tower?"

"No," Belle stated, simply shaking her head. 

"Then- " the horned creature glared seemingly annoyed with his human-like blue eyes."-follow me." He turned away and walked out of the cell.

Belle walked slowly. Her feet tingling painfully. They had fallen asleep from the cold of the cell. Her thighs ached from riding uphill. Her sores on her ankles were stung and crusted with dry blood soaked into her stockings. She was shivering from cold and exhaustion. Her hands gripped her cloak clasp over her heart. The creature waited by the stairwell with a candelabra in hand.

"This way," he grunted and began to descend the spiral stones stairs. 

Belle focused on her steps following the glow of the candelabra down the stairs and to the carpeted corridors. They then traveled down those corridors some more and to another set of marble stairs. Instead of going down to the servants area, the stairs lead upward to ornate private apartments. The air seemed to have warmed up some more from when she originally arrived. She looked around trying to figure out what she may have to clean. Statues of gargoyles and monsters, twisted shapes in the lavish columns and flourished painting frames.

A horror castle. She didn't know what other phantoms or monsters were lurking about. She gasped realizing she had been left in the dark. The light was further down the hall. Belle ran back to the creature and followed his steps. At least that creature wouldn't be eating her anytime soon. If he was, he would have eaten her in the cell. Numbness filled her again as she willed herself to follow. Her head felt like a fog.

"I hope you like it here."

She looked up startled. _'Is he speaking to me?'_ she thought. The creature was looking at her over his red cloaked shoulder.

"The castle is your home now," he stated.

 _'Is it though?'_ Belle wondered. _'How can he say that? This place is so dark and cold.'_

"You need not fear. You may go anywhere you wish, you are now a resident here," the creature continued. He lifted a clawed finger "Save for the West Wing."

' _Resident? Not a slave?'_ Belle's mind swirled. 

"What's in the West Wing?" she wondered out loud. 

The creature spun around and loomed over her. Had he snapped? Was he going to kill her? She shrank back out of instinct. 

"It is forbidden!" He barked. His fur stood on edge like a frightened alley cat. He panted with his eyes wide. They looked like a mixture of anger and fear. Belle was confused. His cape whipped as he turned around before she could study his face any further. 

_'That was strange,'_ Belle thought. ' _So I'm to be a resident here, not a servant? And I'm free to wander about? Such a strange prison situation. Him calling this place a home. I know my home is where my heart is, with Papa. And that is far away from here. What was with that reaction, though? Why is this creature so upset about the West Wing?'_

They had reached a compartment and turned left. Two lifesize white alabaster female statutes stood on each side of the door. They were enrobed with crescent moons adorning them and a spear and bow in their respective hands. 

_'Dianna and Athena,'_ Belle thought, regarding the decorative pair.

The creature opened the golden door handle and gestured with an upward palm for her to go inside. 

_'Like a cursed footman,'_ she thought. ' _Will he be entering too?'_

She stepped into the dark room. She could feel the heat radiating off his massive chimera form behind her. He seemed to have shifted so the door was placed between them. Her eyes began to adjust to the night. It was a very large room with high walls and a high ceiling. It was most certainly larger than her cottage home. Her eyes adjusted further to the darkness and she saw a large bed in the dim clouded moonlight.

"Should you need anything, my servants will attend to you," the creature rumbled.

 _'Servants?'_ Belle wondered. _'I didn't see any servants. If there are servants, why did he escort me? But then, whose voice was that earlier? Another person? And was that whispering now?'_

"You will.." the creature stammered. She turned her head over her shoulder to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He straightened tall and puffed out his wide fur covered chest. She hadn't realized just how much he had been slouching.

 _'What now?'_ Belle pondered dully.

"You will join me for dinner!" the creature shouted. " That is NOT a request."

The door slammed and she was engulfed in darkness. 

_'No!'_ Belle's mind screamed. She threw her fists at the door. She was trapped! She searched around and panic seized her as she gasped for breath. Fear overtook her.

 _'Are there other monsters in here too? Is the dinner actually...me?! Am I to be eaten?'_

If she was going to be devoured, she assumed it was going to happen despite her wishes. Belle felt helpless. She raced towards the bed and fell upon it. She screamed frustrated into the soft blankets and squeezed her eyes shut as tears poured forth. She couldn't stop crying. She was going to be eaten by the creature or it's brood. She was certain of it.

  
  



	7. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast invited Belle down to dinner and is waiting for her arrival. Meanwhile, Belle believes she is the main course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter warning! I thought about breaking this up into 3 separate chapters but I really didn't want to split up the dinner invitation scene. Enjoy!

The Beast stood staring at the door of Belle's room. The door was closed shut but his sensitive animalistic ears heard Belle's anguished sobs loud and clear. It sounded as if she was muffling them with a pillow. The Beast shook, trying to hold back a roar of frustration.

"Master," chimed Lumiere, still held in his clawed hand. "-you may want to stay calm. You don't want to alarm the girl any further."

The Beast snorted. The display of considerateness in giving Belle her own private apartments had been futile. He set Lumiere down on the floor.

"Go. See to dinner preparations," the Beast commanded brusquely. 

"Oui. Right away, Master," Lumiere puffed, saluting with his candlestick arm. He hopped away towards the stairs leaving the Beast in the dark corridor.

The Beast felt his stomach turn. The young woman sounded like she was in pure misery. For years the only sound of sadness had been distorted sighs from wooden feather dusters or a dainty simpering of porcelain. The sound of Belle's very human cries froze him in place. Memories of his mother crying the same way flooded his mind. 

_The household had been at dinner, the nursemaid holding his baby brother stood closely by. Then there was a commotion of servants hollering. His young mother screamed and dashed towards the infant. He was rushed from the table to his private quarters and could hear his mother wailing in the corridor. He heard the sharp sound of a slap. His father shouted demanding she pull herself together. They would produce a viable heir next time- not one that would stop breathing suddenly. Even he knew as a young six-year-old prince that his father’s will went against the advice of the physicians. His mother had spent too many months recovering in bed away from him due to miscarriages. He wanted to scream and kick his father, but the servants held his small body back in the room._

The Beast did not want to think of that moment.

"Damn, I could use a drink right now," he huffed trudging towards the grandiose garnet dining room. He wished alcohol affected him in this form. It once had been a reliable distraction from those detestable childhood memories. It seemed that with his massive size, his tolerance grew. He had once tried to get drunk in his cursed form but gave up after 40 wine bottles simple became tedious in constantly needing to relief himself. Cognac didn't work either. His cursed body just wouldn’t let him find any happiness from a bottle.

_'How can she be upset after I gave her a royal apartment?'_ the Beast fumed, confused by the girl’s behavior. He continued to walk past the tall glass windows. Small windswept snowflakes were starting to fall outside in the night. _'Such ungrateful behavior! I could have left her in the tower. She shouldn't even be here anyhow. Why was she so foolish to come for her father? Doesn't she know the risks of the mountain forest? Those roads haven't been tended to in years. What if she had been eaten by wolves? Or fallen from the cliffsides? Why did that old man come here at all? This is all his fault.’_

Entering the dining room, the Beast saw Lumiere and Cogsworth bickering on the large fireplace mantle. They quickly quieted as he entered the room. Long ago, only elite and prestigious guests of his choosing dined in the royal garnet room. The larger grand dining hall of the old castle structure was used only occasionally for more public feasts or events. Now he rarely entered this private room for meals. He would either hunt or eat the meals left at his door. 

The Beast seated himself at head the white linen covered dining table. The table was set for two even though it could easily seat twenty as intended. Not eating all day had caused him to feel nauseous and dizzy. The situation with Belle and his own memories soiled his mood further.

The first course was wheeled in on a cart to the table. A selection of five silver decorated soup tureens waddled towards him. He waved them away. The soups smelled great, but he knew they would leave a disgusting dribbling mess in his fur. That would not be wise when dealing with this new 'resident'. The tureens waddled towards the other end of the table but sensing no living presence they waddled back to the cart. The inanimate cart wheeled away back to the kitchens. 

The appetizers took a few minutes appear, but the large serving dishes whirled in spinning slowly off the carts and rotating in a circle around the table. The Beast scooped several off on to his smaller plate; mainly pate and meat items.

_'She should be here any moment,'_ he thought growling. He tossed the appetizers into his fanged maw as if they were mere grapes. _'She's already missed the soup course.'_

Devouring some more, the Beast found it strange that he was hoping Belle might find him agreeable. He had forgone soup to impress her with some form of neatness. 

_'Do I actually want to impress her? I doubt she may ever actually love me,'_ he scorned his own hopes. ' _True love only exists in fairy stories. And those fairy stories are filled with lovesick fools.'_

' _I'm hideous,_ ' he contemplated. _'Unless she's absolutely crazy, she could never lover a monster. Especially if she found out about my romantic appetites. Maybe she would indulge out of fear, but it wouldn't be desire and definitely not love. She would just put up a farce. An act of a prisoner, not a lover. Still, I must try. This all feels in vain though.'_

He glanced at Cogsworth standing with Lumiere on the fireplace mantle. A half an hour had passed since he sat down. Cogsworth couldn't help but make a quiet chime every fifteen minutes. The two were speaking discretely in quiet tones to one another. It was so irritating, and the appetizers were not filling at all. The dishes continued to rotate on the table, and he grabbed even the vegetable and bread like appetizers. His hunger was growing.

* * *

Belle trembled unwillingly. She attempted to convince herself to stop crying and that she would make herself sick from tears. She would then remember it didn't matter since she was going to be killed anyways. She couldn't help but bawl into the blankets. Her sobs settled once again, and she hoped the cycle of tears wouldn't repeat.

Belle wondered how so much could go wrong so quickly. She had believed that the depth of her problems was the monotony of her close-minded village but now she longed for the familiarity of that run-down place. She had thought she could be braver than this and that she wouldn't despair this much. However, now that she was left in the dark waiting for inescapable death, she felt heartbroken. A gentle knock then sounded at the door.

"Who is it?" she sniffled out of habit of manners.

' _Silly, probably the creature come to eat me,_ ' she thought.

"It's Mrs. Potts, dear," a grandmotherly voice sounded from the other side of the door.

_'A servant?_ ' Belle wondered. _'Of course. He did say that there were servants. I guess they are around.'_

"Just a moment please," Belle called out. She made her way to the doors and wiped away her tears, extremely aware of how distraught she appeared. It wasn't the servants fault the castle monster lord was so cruel. She opened the door and saw no one there. There was just a bronze cart with a porcelain tea set on it. She was puzzled. 

The cart rolled forward into the room on its own and Belle jumped back out of the way. The candlesticks on the chamber walls became alight as small flames sprouted forth. The ornate pastel room was suddenly very bright. 

"I thought you might like a spot of tea, love," sounded the grandmotherly voice. It came from the decorative white and lavender teapot.

Belle put her hand to her mouth shocked. She squinted and could see the teapot had painted decorations of what appeared to be a face. The spout was a nose and a set of pink painted lips smiled underneath. Two pale pink painted flowers were on each side slightly above the lips where cheeks ought to be. Above the flowers rested two glimmering painted eyes with that seemed to be fully painted with blue makeup. Belle backed away, as the teapot and the whole set jumped off the cart on their own accord. They were all hoping toward her!

"Why you're a-" Belle bumped into a piece of large wooden furniture before she could say teapot.

"Ooof," the furniture sounded and shook. Belle turned around again and saw an ivory and sage armoire. It had female facial features in the topmost wooden flourishes. 

"Caaaareful," the wardrobe shrilly giggled. It leaned forward and Belle thought the entire armoire might fall on her. She took a step back and sat on the teal blanketed bed.

"Am I mad?" Belle wondered out loud. "This is impossible."

_'Is this all magic? A spell? Servants that are objects? How strange.'_

"Oh I know it is," sounded the armoire flopping a side onto the bed. Belle was tossed up slightly in to the air watching the wooden ivory face painted with gold flecks move before her eyes. "but here we aaare..." The armoire opened out a cabinet door and it seemed to impossibly bend like an arm. " I am Madame de la Grande Bouche! Pleased to meet your acquaintance mon cherie! Excuse moi, my dear-” the Madam then yawned, “I seem to always be awfully tired these days."

Belle heard a childlike giggle from the floor. It was teacup with a small chip in the golden border. Like the teapot, its facial features were painted above and below the golden handle, but they appear much younger.

"See Mama, I _tooold_ you she was pretty," state the teacup child with satisfaction.

_'They all have faces,'_ Belle realized. _'They are all moving! Is this what Papa meant? That these objects were alive?_ ' She felt very awkward for crying so much in front of the armoire Madame. 

"Alright Chip, that'll do," chided the teapot, Mrs. Potts to the teacup. "Would you like one lump or two my dear?"

_'Sugar lumps? How decadent,'_ Belle silently marveled. _'Still, this is a magical castle. Might as well indulge.'_

"Two please," Belle asked, kneeling closer to the animated tea set. 

"Right then," state Mrs. Potts leaning over Chip the teacup and pouring steaming tea into him. A faceless silver spoon levitated and plopped two sugar cubes from a faceless ornate sugar bowl into Chip. A faceless ornate creamer levitated and poured some cream into the teacup child as well. The silver spoon stirred and tapped the golden trim of Chip and the little cup hopped along the baby blue rug. 

"Steady now, don't spill!" Mrs. Potts reminded the little teacup. Belle noted how the ladylike teapot treated the cup like a child under its care. Belle couldn't help but smile. Chip hopped in front of her.

" Hello! I'm Chip. Pleased to meet you!" the cup said cheerful and proudly rehearsed. Its voice sounded very much like a young boy, maybe eight or ten.

" Pleased to meet you. I'm Belle," she said smiling. She tried to pick up Chip cupping his side.

"It's okay! Hold my handle," piped Chip.

"It won't hurt or bother you?" Belle asked concerned for the little cup. Magical or not, these items seemed to have personalities and free wills. She did not want to harm or offend.

"Nah, it's just fine."

"Alright, thank you," stated Belle. She gently put her lips to the rim to sip as delicately as kissing a child on its forehead.

"Do you wanna see me do a trick?" Chip squeaked and wiggled when half the liquid was left. Belle move to hold the cup standing in the palm of her hand. Chip seemed to inhale and hold his breath. The cup grew warmer in her hand. Bubbles frothed over the top like a boiling pot of milk.

"Chip!" snapped the teapot, Mrs. Potts. Chip immediately stopped the bubbles and seemed to wince as if he knew he was in trouble. Still he giggled playfully.

"Oops. Sorry," Chip giggled. Belle set him down on floor and he hopped to Mrs. Potts. The teapot gave a scolding look to the teacup. They appeared to Belle to be a tea set family of sorts.

_'They are adorable magic things,'_ Belle smiled thinking to herself.

"That was a very brave thing you did my dear," Mrs. Potts remarked to Belle, seeming to move and nod. " I wanted to let you know your courage was recognized."

"Yes," Madame de la Grande Bouche chimed in pushing off the bed and standing " we all think so. The entire castle."

Belle tried to smile, appreciative of their praises but still...

"But I've lost my father," sighed Belle " I thought he got lost in the mountains, but now, I've lost him completely. My life… and dreams. I've lost everything." 

"Oh, cheer up child," Mrs. Potts cooed. " I know it seems bleak, but everything will turn out alright in the end, you'll see." She moved closed to Belle and her painted blue eyes seemed to grow softer somehow. "I do hope we can be friends, you and I. I know we don't know one another dearie, but I'm sure if anyone can make the most of living here, then it's you Belle. And maybe, one day, you might find that home is indeed here." 

Belle smiled, appreciating the kind words the Mrs. Potts provided.

"Oof," Mrs. Potts shook and jumped up a bit. "Look at me jabbering on while there's a supper to get on the table. Chip!" She hopped onto the cart along with the sugar bowl and creamer. The chipped teacup bounced along too.

"Bye!" Chip called out to Belle as the cart rolled along the corridor and the door shut.

"Hmm, is everything here enchanted?" Belle thought out loud standing up. She wandered to an ivory and gold vanity and saw a set of hair combs and brushes. She picked up a silver handled brush and held it in front of her.

"Hello. What is your name?" She asked. The brush made no answer, nor did it move. The armoire chuckled. 

"No mademoiselle, that is just a hairbrush," she stated. 

"Oh..." Belle blushed feeling silly as the hairbrush levitated from her hand to the vanity. She turned and walked closer to the magical speaking armoire. "So only somethings are alive? How did they move then?"

"Yes, my dear," stated Madame de la Grande Bouche " I am the only thing alive in this room as I find it very difficult leave this room. I simply am able to _will_ some items to move. Everything else is simply furniture and linens." She yawned. 

"How bizarre," marveled Belle. "I wonder, how I can tell?"

"Oh don't worry Mademoiselle...." Madame de la Grande Bouche paused.

"Belle," she stated. 

"Mademoiselle Belle," continued Madame de la Grande Bouche flapping her cabinet doors, the bronze handles rotating about as if they were gesticulating hands. " It would be extremely rude if the servants don't make their presence known. There are only a handful of us anyhow. We shall most certainly address you if you come across us. And besides, you can you usually see our, when, ' _faces_ '."

" Ah, thank you. That is helpful knowledge," Belle smiled. 

"Now mon cherie, what shall we dress you in for supper?" Madame de la Grande Bouche leaned in closer to Belle and took held her face in between her brass handles. The dramatic armoire squished Belle's cheeks like an awkward aunt that might pinch a child. The painted gilded eyes squinted examining Belle's features. The armoire then released her and shuffled back quickly.

"Pretty eyes. Proud face. Yes, yes! The perfect canvas. We shall dress you in something worthy of a princess."

"Oh well," Belle shook her head in disagreement, "I'm not a princess. Just a country maid."

"Nonsense, " thrilled Madame de la Grande Bouche. " Now! Let us see what I have in my drawers." The armoire opened up a door and then one of her drawers. Tiny grey moths fluttered out. The drawer slammed shut. The armoire sputtered and blowing away the moths.

"Ooh! How embarrassing," Madame de la Grande Bouche chuckled. Belle swore the ivory and gold painted face blushed. She sounded like she cleared her throat and reopened the other door. The ornate flourished bronze handles held out a pink gown. "Here we are! You'll look **ravishing** in this one."

Belle's stomach dropped. Ravishing. That was the word Gaston used. His vice like hands gripped her jaw and thumbed her lips. She barely escaped. Still he persisted with kissing her again.

"No!" Belle shouted. 

The armoire looked concerned and almost hurt. Belle pushed the dress away gently shaking her head. She pushed the terrifying ordeal of her mind.

“No thank you. It's very kind, but I'm not going."

‘ _All I want to do is sleep peacefully,'_ Belle thought. _'And if that chimera creature does want me to come down to dinner, I may be the dinner course. I should try and stay in here.'_

"Oh, but you must!" Madame de la Grande Bouche gasped. 

"Please. I am quite fine, thank you," Belle sighed. "It's so very late, nearly midnight. I'm so very tired."

There was another knock at the door. Belle turned expecting Mrs. Potts again, but instead a small clock stood outside of the door. The hands appeared to not keep the proper time but act as a sort of mustache to the odd clock face. Its brass handle came up to the clock face and it stiffly cleared its throat. 

"Ahem ahem ahem. Dinner is served," the clock man bowed. 

_'Dinner is served?'_ Belle pondered. _'Does he wish to fatten me up?'_

"Cogsworth it's terrible!" shrilled Madame de la Grande Bouche. " Mademoiselle says she is not going." The clock face of Cogsworth seemed to turn even more brilliant white as if it had gone pale.

"But you must dine with the Master," he pleaded.

"No, I will not," Belle stated exasperated. She was tired of this argument. She moved to the bed and sat down. "Please inform your Master that I will not be coming."

"But Mademoiselle," Cogsworth started.

"No thank you," Belle huffed, crossing her arms. "Not after his behavior towards me and my father."

"But Mademoiselle!" pleaded Cogsworth.

"No," Belle stated. If she could live another day, even if it was trapped this room, she would try.

* * *

The blazing heat from the intricate red Italian marble fireplace was far too warm for the Beast's comfort. Sitting alone at the head of the dining table he presumed it was warm to be comfortable for Belle. The problem was, she wasn't there.

" Where is she?" he snarled displeased.

"Oh, tut tut," Mrs. Potts clicked. The teapot housekeeper had joined the bickering candlestick and clock duo on the mantle. "The girl just needed a cup of tea to sort her nerves, Master. After everything that’s happened, I'm surprise she hasn't collapsed entirely. She's a strong one she is.'

The Beast looked down at his empty plate letting out rumbled sigh. He could agree Belle was indeed strong. She had a strong grip on the torch that he ripped away from her hands and she didn’t swoon like a court lady seeing his cursed self for the first time.

"Cogsworth," Lumiere suggested in his throaty northern accent "why don't you go and check on ze Mademoiselle? Huh?"

"By your leave Master?" Cogsworth's pompous English dialect irritated the Beast even more.

"Yes. Go. And tell her to hurry up." the Beast slouched. Cogsworth did a low bow and hopped away out the door.

"This was a foolish idea," the Beast said to Lumiere. "Offering a royal dinner to the daughter of a trespasser and common thief?"

"Oh, you can't judge a person by who their Father is can you?" Mrs. Potts remarked. The Beast grumbled slipping out of his chairman. He began to pace. 

_'That woman always seems to know how to make it sound like I'm wrong,'_ the Beast thought. _'Damn it! I'm pacing now too!'_ He hated that he picked up his father’s habit and was unable to break it.

"Where is she?" the Beast barked.

"Oh Master," Mrs. Potts sighed. "The girl has lost her freedom and her father all in one day. Be patient please."

_'How the hell am I supposed to be patient!'_ he silently fumed.

He growled again. Everyone was always telling him to be calm and patient. They could never understand how hard it was to be how he was already. His claws tore the thickest fabric to ribbons. The heightened smells, the faintest sounds and his heightened cursed instincts driving him to an animal state. The memories of his youth haunted him without the aid of wine or cognac to drive them away. They crashed down and intruded his mind. And here the haunts of his former servants still compelled him to be his former human self. It was a mockery from the enchantress. Life was hellish. 

"Master," Lumiere started hesitantly, "forgive me for being so bold, but perhaps you have given thought that this girl maybe the one to break the spell?"

"Of course I have!" snapped the Beast "I'm not a fool."

"Good!" Lumiere proclaimed joyfully. "You fall in love with her, she falls in love with you! And POOF! the spell will be broken, and we will all be human again by midnight."

"As she sobbing into her pillows?" barked the Beast. “How romantic,'” he rolled his eyes turning away. 

"Oh, it's not the simple Lumiere," chided Mrs. Potts. " These things take time."

_'At least she understood,'_ thought the Beast continuing his pacing.

"But we don't have time," Lumiere pouted. "The rose has already begun to wilt."

"It's not use! That damn rose!" the Beast snapped. He ran his claws through his mane rubbing his neck. "And she's so beautiful, and I'm so..."

The word monster stuck in the back on his throat. His own thoughts seemed to mock him.

_'Monster! Monster! Monster!'_ his mind screamed taunting. His clawed paw like hand balled up in a fist.

" **Well!** ’ he shouted at Lumiere and Mrs. Potts. " **Look at me!** "

They seemed frozen, wide eyed on the mantle. The Beast wondered for a moment if they had turned completely into objects. Then, Lumiere shrugged in defeat. 

"Well, he has a point," Lumiere smirked. Mrs. Potts shushed him with a quick glance.

"Oh," soothed Mrs. Potts "you must help her see past all of that."

"What do you mean?" the Beast snapped. "Besides..." He looked down sulking. The full realization of his ignorance of the situation came crashing down on him.

"I don't know how," he admitted. Steam simmered out of Mrs. Potts spout and top. Her gentle painted eyes seemed to snap as she was ready to give him a mother's scolding.

_'She might box my ears, if she still had hands,'_ the Beast thought.

"Well," Mrs. Potts huffed. She hoped off the mantle onto a pillow and to the dining table with porcelain clinking. "You can start by straightening up. Start acting like a gentleman!"

"Oui! Yes, yes!" eagerly exclaimed Lumiere. He hopped down as well moving to the table. "When she walks in, give her a dashing debonair smile. Come ,come! Show us the smile," Lumiere waved.

The Beast tried to grin. It hurt his cheeks. 

"Oh dear," Lumiere murmured. It was evident the toothy fanged smiled was absurd.

"BUT!" Mrs. Potts yelped " Don't frighten the poor girl."

"Impress her with your rapier wit," Lumiere suggested as he made a fencing sword motion. The Beast nodded nothing that was good counsel. It had been years since he had company, let alone wooed anyone.

"But be gentle," Mrs. Potts remarked.

"Shower her with compliments!"

"But be sincere."

"Display your good humor and intellect!"

"But be kind."

The Beast groaned as they were making his head hurt with these suggestions.

"And above all else!" the shouted in unison “ **You must control your temper!** ’

The Beast inhaled sharply insulted by their last remark. A tap sounded at the door. He spun around to face the intricate doors and he felt his stomach drop.

"Here she is!" Lumiere whispered. 

A door creaked open slowly. No one was there. He felt his heart beat wildly. His tail swished in anticipation.

_'Calm. Calm. CALM_!' he thought to himself gulping. Cogsworth then tiptoed in. ' _Damn, it was just him,'_ the Beast squinted.

"Gooood evening," Cogsworth greeted shakily. 

"Well?'" growled the Beast questioningly. "Where is she?" He wanted answers.

"Where is a... who?" stammered Cogsworth. "Oh! The girl. Yes, yes the girl.' He made a noise as if he cleared his throat. “She is in the process of....well, that is to say.... she is, well, erm,”

_'Waiting alone was less irritating than this nonsense,'_ thought the Beast. He tapped his claws on the table as his tail swished involuntarily.

“She's not coming,” Cogsworth frowned defeatedly.

The Beast’s mind pricked as he heard his ears ringing dully. That was the last straw. The thunderstorm exploded in his mind and he felt on fire again. 

" **What!"** he roared. He raced on all fours out of the room through the castle. He heard his servants scrambling and shouting far behind him.

" Please!" screeched Cogsworth. " DON'T BE HASTY!"

‘ _After I released her father? After I gave her a royal apartment? After I gave her a royal dinner invitation? This peasant denies **ME**!’_

He halted outside of her door sliding on all fours to avoid hurling himself out of the window glass. He knocked on the door with his fist. He wanted to punch right through the door, and it took every ounce of will to hold back his strength.

"I thought I told you to come down to dinner!" the Beast boomed.

"I'm not hungry" Belle proclaimed from inside the room.

" I'm the Master of this Castle and I'm telling you to come down to dinner," the Beast order. 

"And I'm telling you, I'm not hungry," Belle still refused.

_'Lies,'_ the Beast growled to himself. He had been starving ‘ _She’s avoiding me. I give her a room and clothing more glorious than the shit hovel she came from and this is how she repays me?'_

“You're hungry if I say you’re hungry!” the Beast growled. He heard a feminine peal of laughter.

_‘Is she laughing? Has she gone mad? Is this a joke to her?’_

“Don't be ridiculous,” Belle retorted. “You can't go around ordering people to be hungry. It's not natural. It doesn't work like that!'

“Yes, I can!” the Beast shouted. It irritated him her reasoning regarding her appetite actually made some sense. 

“Besides it's rude,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” scoffed the Beast “It’s rude is it? I’ve had enough of this. You'll come out!' Or or or, ' he stammered so angry he could barely think. He didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't. The image of his crying mother being dragged by her hair to his father’s chambers was forever etched in his mind. He couldn't never be so horrible but still she had broken his patience.

' **Or I'll break down the door!** '

'Uh, Master,” Lumiere interrupted. The Beast glared at the servants who had followed and were standing behind him. “I could be wrong, but that may not be the best way to win the girl's affections.” 

“Please!” Cogsworth begged. “Attempt to be a gentleman.”

“But she is being so difficult,” the Beast tried to whisper to them. Mrs. Potts nodded.

“Gently,” she sighed. The Beast took a deep breath readying himself to try again.

“Will you come down to dinner,” he huffed displeased.

“No!” Belle shouted. 

_‘How can I be polite when I am dealing with this!?’_ his mind screamed shocked at her straightforward rejection. ‘ _What now?’_ He glared at the servants pointing at the door.

“Suave,” Cogsworth suggested. “Genteel.” The Beast sighed.

‘ _Charming a peasant?’_ he scowled. ‘ _Ridiculous’_ Years of well-practiced manners reflexively engaged as he gathered his cape and bowed at the door.

“It would give me great pleasure,” the Beast growled. “if you would join me for dinner.”

“Ahem, ahem,” Cogsworth mumbled. “We say please.”

“Please,” the Beast muttered impassive as he stood up to a slouch.

“No thank you,” Belle affirmed loudly from the other side of the door. The Beast felt his hackles rise from anger and shock. She was denying him still.

“You can’t stay in there forever!” the Beast shouted furiously at the door.

“Oh, yes I can,” Belle retorted.

“Fine,” barked the Beast. He roared at the door “then go ahead and **STARVE**!”

He whipped around to see the servants huddled together. “If she doesn’t eat with me, she doesn’t eat at all!” he commanded.

He ran to his apartments. He had to get away from everyone. He ran through the corridors through his antechamber, study, and cabinet into his dark bedchamber. He was so revolted and irritated. He shoved a broken armchair out of the way, and it flew smashing against the wall. He cursed his strength causing another thing to break. 

“I ask her to come down to dinner nicely, but **still** she refuses,” he shouted at the air.

“What? What does she want me to do? Beg? Beg for her to love me? A disgusting cursed monster? Damn!!”

_‘Who the hell does she think she is anyhow,’_ the Beast’s thoughts raged. ‘ _Was she standing there proudly? With a smug look on her face? She laughed. Is she still laughing?’_

The Beast suddenly felt extremely curious. He wanted to confirm his suspicions that the girl was a pompous arrogant ungrateful wretch. He moved out of his bed chamber towards his study. On a wall framed by two velvet curtains, hung an ornate silver mirror the size of a large dinner platter. It had appeared after the curse near the rose within the study away from the enchanted rose. The Beast moved to stand directly in front of the mirror snarling at his own reflection.

“Show me the girl,” he commanded the magic mirror. It glowed an eerie green glow and caused the air to smell like burning metal. The reflective surface swirled as if it were liquid of a rushing stream. The clear image an ivory armoire who was Madame de la Grande Bouche appeared within.

“Oh, the Master isn’t all that bad, you’ll see,” coaxed the former diva. Her voiced sounded like it echoed within a cave. “Why don’t you give him a chance?” The reflection expanded and it showed Belle still in her sky-blue country dress. Belle was holding a fireplace poker, ready to swing at the doors. The armoire stood nearby, and Mrs. Potts was on a nightstand.

_'She had been allowed in the room but not me?'_ he squinted.

“No, I don’t want to have anything to do with him” scowled Belle huffing in anger. “At any moment he could crash in through that door! Just like Gaston! Instead of forcing me to marry him, he’s going to kill me and eat me for his dinner. I don’t know which fate is worse,” she shook her head, laughing.

“Mon cherie,” cooed the Madame. “I don’t know who this Gaston is, but the Master is not like that. He isn’t going to barge into a lady’s personal chamber, and he is certainly not going to eat you.”

“No!” Belle shouted. Her eyes were wide with fear. “He screamed at me that he would break down the doors. I don’t know if I can win but I will fight to survive.”

“Oh, please calm down dearie,” Mrs. Potts hushed calmly. “Please understand, the master’s temper just flared up. He won’t hurt you.”

Belle shook her head in disbelief gripping the fireplace poker tighter. The Beast could see tears welling in her eyes.

“Listen, love,” Mrs. Potts continued. “A lot of people say things they don’t mean in anger. Whether we listen or not is up to us.”

“Well, where I’m from people follow through with what they say they are going to do," Belle’s chin quivered as tears fell down her cheeks. Still, she held the fireplace poker high. "So, if someone say’s they’ll break down a door, they will. And I don’t wish to die. Not without a fight.”

“Enough,” the Beast growled covering his eyes. The glowing mirror returned to a normal silver sheen.

‘ _She wasn’t pompous at all,’_ he realized. He sighed. ‘ _She’s terrified. What have I done? She'll never see me as anything more than a monster.’_

“It's hopeless,” the Beast mumbled as his shoulders slumped forward feeling defeated. Slouching, he lumbered back into the darkness of his bedchamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has me researching architecture again and I do love it. I'm sorry about the delay for this chapter. Working in a medical office with COVID-19 protocols in place is mentally tiring. I do wish to stick to the 2 week update schedule but there are no guarantees at this point. Stay safe everyone!


	8. Safety?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's first night at the castle as she worries for her safety.

Belle stood facing the doors of her new room. She held a fireplace poker gripped like a sword in her hands ready to swing away. At any moment the gigantic fur covered horned creature could crash in through the doors. He had roared, demanding she come out of the room. She was certain if she left the room to go with him, she was good as dead; a dinner for that cruel creature. Belle had tried her best to make him leave and for the moment it worked as he had stampeded away. Mrs. Potts pleaded to be let into the room so Belle quickly allowed her entrance, but she anticipated the chimera creature's return at any moment. Belle stood facing the chamber doors trying to hold back her tears of frustration and fear. 

"Oh, please calm down dearie,” Mrs. Potts hushed calmly. “Please understand; the master’s temper just flared up. He won’t hurt you.”

Belle shook her head in disbelief. 

“Listen, love,” Mrs. Potts continued. “A lot of people say things they don’t mean in anger. Whether we listen or not is up to us.”

“Well, where I’m from people follow through with what they say they are going to do," Belle’s chin quivered as hot tears fell unwillingly down her cheeks. "So, if someone says they’ll break down a door, they will. And I don’t wish to die. Not without a fight.”

" Oh dear, oh dear," Mrs. Potts moved as if she was shaking her head. " What a mess the Master has made with his temper now. Making you think your life is in danger. Dear, the Master is not going to hurt you. Believe you me, if he hasn't any intention of injury. No harm will come to you. We swear to the Almighty. Isn't that right Madame?"

"Oui!" chirped Madam de la Grande Bouche. "I shall guard the door myself mon cherie, if you wish."

" Really?" Belle asked somewhat doubtful. She wanted to believe the kind teapot's comforting words, but she was cautious. She did trust that a huge clothing filled armoire baring the door would be a somewhat safe.

"Oui! Yes." Madame confirmed flinging out her cabinet doors wildly. 

"Dearie," Mrs. Potts started. " It sounds like you've had a difficult time and a very trying day. Would you like to chat about it?"

"No," Belle sighed. It was past midnight and she felt weary. " I honestly don't think I can. Everything is changing so fast."

"Well, it is late," Mrs. Potts said. "Why don't you get some rest and you can talk it over in the morning over tea and breakfast if you'd like."

"But, your Master said that if I don't eat with him, I won't eat at all," Belle replied puzzled.

"Pish posh," Mrs. Potts huffed. "I won't let you go hungry. The Master won't either if he knows what's good for him. Nice warm tea and croissants, that's the first thing I'll bring you in the morning dearie."

Belle nodded and sniffed her stuffy nose. Walking to the fireplace alcove she returned the fireplace poker to its iron set.

"Very good, dearie," Mrs. Potts affirmed. "Now off you go to bed. Madam de la Grande Bouche, will you give her a hand?

"Certainly" the Madame replied, directing Belle to a foreign lacquer folding screen. Belle wandered behind it marveling at the painted Eastern cranes, pine branches, flowering pink blossoms and other strange colorful birds decorating the shiny black wood. 

"Thank you, but I'm quite alright," Belle assured as she reached for her stays. "I have my laces."

"Surely you would like a fresh chemise?"

Madam de la Grande Bouche asked. "Yours is soiled from riding. And also, a freshening toilette of mineral spirits." The armoire was willing bottles and a towel to float over from the vanity. 

"Erm-" Belle looked at the spinning levitating bottles unsure of what to use. "Just water please, to rinse my hands and face."

"But your pores in the air!" gasped the Madame. Belle shrugged at the old superstition of avoiding dangerous diseases through water. 

"I am made of a tougher stock," Belle noted. A stand that matched the lacquer screen waddled closer with a pitcher and bowl, and Mrs. Potts who poured some warm water from her spout.

"Use a dash of the pink and gold bottle, love," Mrs. Potts suggested. Belle grabbed the levitating bottle and poured a few drops into the water. It filled the air with a floral scent. She recognized the scent as some rose, but a foreign scent was the strongest on the air. 

"That is lovely," Belle remarked splashing her face and hands. She patted her skin dry with the softest towel she had ever felt. "What is it?"

"Jasmine and vanilla rose," Mrs. Potts replied. 

_'So that is the scent of Arabian Nights,'_ Belle thought wistfully. _'There are so many different things from far off lands in the room._ ' She removed her gown, stays and underskirts, placing them on a hip high clothing rack. She was in nothing but her shift. Belle hissed as she removed her stockings. The blood dried fabric stuck to her blistered ankles. Madam de la Grande Bouche peered around the screen concerned. 

"Tut, tut," the Madame clicked. " No, no, no! These are dirty! Let us dress you in something more suitable."

"No!" Belle pleaded reaching out for her blue gown. "Please, I want to keep a bit of home with me."

 _'I've lost everything,_ ' she thought. _'I won't lose this too._ ' It was simple and durable jacquard fabric, but it was one of the only surviving pieces from her Mother's collection.

"Alright, love," Mrs. Potts tilted with an understanding glance. "At least let me send them to be laundered."

"Alright," Belle nodded, pulling her hand away back to her heart. 

"Bon," Madam de la Grande Bouche chimed. "You shall have them back first thing in the morning."

"Oh no need to rush!" Belle shook her head concerned. "I don't want to keep anyone from sleeping. Wait...do you sleep?"

"Usually yes, dearie," Mrs. Potts chuckled. "But I highly doubt anyone will rest tonight. It's been a long time since we've had a newcomer to the castle. So, don't you fret. It will be no trouble at all." 

Mrs. Potts hopped onto the clothing rack and it began to toddle to the doors. 

"Please do get some rest," Mrs. Potts called out and a door opened letting her out. It closed behind her and Madam de la Grande Bouche moved in front of the doors. The candles on the walls went out and left the fireplace embers glowing red. A single candle on a golden candlestick shed light on the bed nightstand. 

"Sleep well, cherie," she yawned. "I'll guard the door."

Belle walked toward the tall four post canopy bed. It was large and could fit a family of six or seven. Belle felt a little guilty of sleeping in such luxury by herself. She blew out the candle and settled into the bedding. The pillows were a bit dusty irritating her nose, but they were very soft and comfortable. Even the soft mattress felt warm as well. She guessed that a magical bed warmer must have heated her bed as she was undressing. Curling on her side and shutting her eyes, her body felt exhausted. Her mind raced, however.

 _'So, the magic teapot and armoire think their Master will not hurt me?'_ Belle mused. 

_'I suppose he didn't break down the doors even though he threatened too? And he said I was to starve, but the magic items won't allow it. I wonder if he's the sort of person that spews empty threats often then.'_ Belle's eyes fluttered open and she frowned _. 'Person? How can I think of that chimera as a person? Locking away Papa. For such a random reason and with no mercy for his health. That's not right._ _Then again... '_

A sour taste rose from her stomach as it clenched. The haunting sensations of Gaston pulling her waist and squeezing her shoulders made her go rigid. Even though the bed was toasty warm, she felt cold and frozen with anxious disgust. She felt as if her breath was trapped in her lungs. A loud snore from the magic armoire reminded her to exhale.

 _'I guess I'm safer here than I am at home right now,'_ she sighed curling the blankets closer around her. _'A strange prison and a strange refuge.'_ Belle thought as she dozed off to sleep.

Belle stirred and slowly blinked her eyes open. Stretching out she could tell it was early morning by the dim gray light coming through the thick curtains. Her legs felt stiff from riding uphill for hours the night before. It seemed as if she had slept in late. She assumed it was due to no chores needing to be completed or animals to be feed. 

_'I hope Papa can manage them on his own,'_ Belle thought, placing her hands behind her head. _'He should have enough stores in the cellar for winter since we prepared for two.'_

Gazing upward she saw that the large bed posts had intricate vines and roses carved into the white painted wood. They reached upward and arched into a birdcage like dome with brocade mulberry red colored curtains streaming downwards. Sitting up, she saw the comforter was teal with white, yellow and pink flowers embroidered. 

_'So elegant,'_ Belle marveled. She heard snoring and saw Madam de la Grande Bouche still at her doorway post somewhat slouched. Standing out of bed, barefoot in her shift, Belle wondered if there was a place for her _garde loo_. 

_'There must be a chamber pot,_ ' she thought, wandering to a corner of the room. _'Or even one of those rumored cupboards the rich have.'_

Sure enough, along the wall near the windows, a small door blended in with the walls. Opening the compartment door, it led to a small closet like room with an odd-looking chair. Belle peered over and saw a dark chute going down. 

“Helloooo?” Belle said quietly. Her voice echoed down the chute. This chair room did appear to be garderobe, but she did not wish to relieve herself on a magical item. That would be too awkward. She poked the seat a few times. 

"Hello?" There was no response. 

_'I suppose only objects with faces are 'alive' then, just like Madame said,'_ Belle confirmed. She finished in the garderobe and went over the jasmine scented water bowl to rinse her hands and face. She threw the rest of the old water down the chute and set the bowl back down on the lacquer flower painted stand.

Belle looked about the room. Every nook and cranny seemed to be decorated with white or pastel painted plaster flowers and gold painted flourishes. Several portraits of well-dressed royalty adorn with jewels stared down from golden foil frames. Belle couldn't imagine ever wearing so many pearls or that much frilled lace.

 _'It must be awfully heavy,'_ she thought.

Another painting of an ideal robust farm countryside sat across from the bed. Walking to the center of the room, she took a better look at her new surroundings. Last night it was too dark, and she was too upset to care. Belle saw left of the folding screen a plush chaise and a fireplace alcove furnished with some sitting chairs and a low table. Madame snored adjacent to the alcove at the doors. Walking to the windows she drew back the velvet midnight blue curtains further. Outside of the tall multi panel windows she only saw the misting gray curtain of a damp fog. 

_'Like gilded cage,'_ Belle sighed. She walked over to the ivory mirror vanity on the other side of the room. A dark yet colorful painting hung right of the vanity. It featured a vase with overflowing summer flowers, feathers, fruits and a human skull peering from behind the vase. Belle wondered if the vanitas served as a reminder for the previous occupant that life was fleeting. Sitting in the plush ivory and buttercream chair, she combed out the tangles of her brunette waves. She parted and spun her hair to the nape of her neck, retying her blue ribbon in place. Lined along the mirror were dozens of pale colorful bottles and trinket boxes of gold and silver. On the vanity rested a crystal vase of dried pale-yellow roses and several small painted porcelain figurines. They were fancifully dressed pastoral characters that were completely overdressed to be feeding their porcelain geese and sheep. It seemed that several rested atop of two books. Belle tilted her head sideways, and gently moved the figurines to read the leather spines- a Bible and Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

Belle gasped in surprise covering her mouth to contain her excitement. She grinned with glee. She had read Shakespeare so long ago! Monsieur Caron once owned a copy in his small shop, but it had been shipped off to a neighboring town where a small merchant purchased it. She clutched the book close to her chest and hurried back to the comfortable covers of bed. 

_‘Two households both alike in dignity,_

_in fair Verona, where we lay our scene,_

_from ancient grudge break to new mutiny_

_where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.’_

Belle sank into the text and was lost within her Shakespearean Italy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I wanted to get Belle quickly settled in to her room for this short chapter and also introduce some castle luxuries one may find in a 18th century palace or castle. 
> 
> 1\. Asian imitation or Chinoiserie furniture, porcelainware, silks and jewelry were popular as limited 18th century relations to the cultures grew.
> 
> 2\. I wanted to note the popular yet false ideal amongst many wealthy people of the pastoral fantasy; where farmers were happy with their peaceful lives via paintings and porcelain figurines. I also personally love the 17th century Dutch still life vanitas paintings (skulls with flowers) and wanted to throw that in there. This particular painting by Ludovico Stern in the 19th particularly was my inspiration:  
> http://www.artnet.com/artists/ludovico-stern/vanitas-hSm_NEqTuBHh1xkqbgj3ww2
> 
> 3\. Unfortunately, every one has to do their business somewhere and while the royals or noble folk could excuse themselves to chamberpots or garderobe ( french private privies), other unfortunately many others were said to use whatever space they could find. Versailles was famous for the unbelievable stench of human waste due to the large amount of court residents and servants. Below is an good article for further historical nerd reading:  
> https://lifeoftheroyals.wordpress.com/2014/08/04/the-toilets-or-lack-of-of-versailles/
> 
> Happy reading and I hope the links lead you to more historical literary adventures.


	9. Crazy Old Maurice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a.k.a back in the village with Maurice).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the views in this chapter do not reflect my own. They are based on historic discriminating views of Eurocentric thoughts.

Father Robert sat at a small wooden table within the bustling tavern. The hour grew closer to midnight, but his religious duties were not as stringent as some other places may require. Wine casks larger than most men were stacked behind the long bar which was packed with villagers in their Sunday best. They leaned across the bar shouting drink orders out to the barmaids. The whole ensemble was joyful and cheerful. 

He had arrived to serve his small country parish deep in the eastern mountains fifteen years ago. The tiny poor village was quaint, and the family histories went back for centuries. The wars that had ravaged France pushed the villagers to cling to their old ways and their faith which meant his work was relatively easy. Despite his attempts to assimilate into the village, his parishioners still treated him a bit like an outsider. He surmised it may perhaps be due to his part Germanic blood. In any case, the parishioners still fill his pews weekly out of respect for the church. While they were very polite towards him none regularly offered him to dine at their table unless it was after he provided religious rites. If it weren't for his habit of lingering about tavern overhearing gossip, he wouldn't know any of the news of the village. And seeing how the tavern owner wished to be in good standing with the church, the owner regularly offered the Father free meals so that a good word might be put in for his immortal soul.

It was this late autumn night, a couple days before All Saint’s Day, that Father Pierre sat alone at his regular table with one single stool in the tavern. He nursed two mugs of ale throughout the evening hours. Unlike other nights, his meal tonight was a piece of roast boar, fine hash, lovely bread and a divine piece of cake. This feast was supposed to commemorate the celebration of the popular local huntsman, Gaston and his bride, Belle. But something had gone awry with the bride having cold feet as her quirky inventor father was out of town. He had offered Gaston to speak with Belle, but the muscular man ushered him by the shoulder to his Gaston's uncle's tavern.

Father Robert found it a strange circumstance that Gaston had arranged for a priest without the father; Maurice, present. He assumed it was due to the financial burden Gaston was kindly taking on for the wedding. Gaston was enamored with Belle and was funding the whole marriage celebration. He hoped that Gaston settling down with a respectable wife and starting a respectable family would be good for Gaston's womanizing behavior. Gaston's flirtatious behavior was unfortunately popular in the village despite his sermons on condemning infidelity and unfaithfulness.

The widower, Maurice and his daughter, Belle were highly intelligent folks from the city that had fallen upon hard times. While Father Robert knew they only attended for holiday masses, they seemed like good kind folk. Belle even came to his tiny church asking her questions regarding religious texts. Despite their good nature it seemed the villagers often seemed to whisper or mock them due to their inability to conform and socialize. Perhaps this marriage would help Belle be accepted by the community as well. Gaston LeGume was from a long line of village descendants who served as mayors and officers who maintained peace in the village. 

Gaston once served as a captain during the wars and had returned home to live peacefully as a huntsman. His Uncle Thomas LeGume owned the tavern. His grand Uncle Matthew owned the mill. His other uncle owned nearly half the properties in the village. The LeGume family was powerful. They were big fish in this small pond, and it seemed all the families within the village were somehow related by blood or marriage. Looking back at the village historical records Father Robert saw that the peace often had to be maintained through violent force. Not only did the village often defend invading borders, it also had its share of expelling dangerous heretics. Witches had to burned to save their immortal souls from the devil. Gypsies had to be discouraged from entering the village. Jews had to be shown that they were not welcome and Moorish folk, well, although they never actually appeared, one had to be vigilant of the constant threat of their eventual potential invasions. The ancestors of the good villagers feared the godless ways of outsiders throughout history. It seemed their fears had been passed down throughout the ages to the present to point of paranoia against their own countrymen.

While the village men enjoyed their fill of ale and wine late into the night, Father Robert observed Gaston slowly begin to sulk by the roaring fireplace. Gaston threw his mug into the fire and it blazed brighter. Clearly, ale had not been the contents, but something stronger. The fireplace wall was covered with his hunting trophies with antlers and horns from near and far. The muscular man's closest friend, Leroy or often called Lefou for his clumsiness, tried his hardest to cheer up the dark-haired man. Lefou urged Gaston into a song and they danced and wrestled with the other tavern folk. Father Robert put on his saturno hat getting ready to leave. It seemed that the night was coming to an end after all their moving about.

"HELP!" someone shouted. " Please someone help me!" 

The tavern went silent as everyone turned to see who had entered the door. The barkeep Bartholomew or Bart for short, accidently poured a pitcher of ale onto a patron's lap. Another barmaid also dropped her pewter pitcher as well.

" Maurice?" Bart hollered confused. It was the bride's portly father. He was ragged looking and pale. Circles were under his red bloated eyes. Fresh snow clung to his dark green cape and his hair was damp from the wet snow. Father Robert stood up as did most of the tavern attendees. 

" Please, please-" Maurice ran into the bar"-I need your help!" He gripped a young farmer who was still seated by his best waistcoat. "He's got her!"

The blonde farmer almost fell out of his seat. Maurice then ran to a table of Gaston's stronger farmhands. He gripped another man, Stanley by his yellow scarf frantically.

"He's got her locked in the dungeon!"

"Who?" Stanley cried out confused. 

"Why Belle, of course!" Maurice cried in despair. He grabbed the other farmhand, Dickard in a brown jacket shaking him by his shoulders " We must go -- no-not a minute to lose!"

"Whoa, slow down, Maurice," Gaston's smooth voice boomed. He sat in hide covered chair. Sitting back and crossing his arms he continued. "Who's got Belle locked in a dungeon?"

" A beast!" Maurice proclaimed standing in the center of the tavern. "A horrible, monstrous beast! " 

Laughter erupted from the tipsy villagers. The priest was confused as to why. The man was clearly distraught.

"Crazy old Maurice!" cackled Beatrice; the thin washer woman, pointing her smoking pipe.

" Always good for a laugh," shrilly giggled Marie; the plump boulangerie's wife. She sat with Beatrice smacking their table with her mug. Maurice stood still in front of Gaston who was smiling.

"Why do you laugh?" Maurice shouted. " My daughter's life is in danger."

" Is it a big beast?" Stanley asked, standing behind Maurice.

"Huge," Maurice turned around and confirmed. The Dickard walked up to Maurice.

" With a long ugly snout? " he asked squishing his nose to a pig face. The third farmhand, Thomas, a broad blond man in a green jacket walked up to Maurice gave him shove. 

"And sharp cruel fangs?" he asked in a mocking high pitch voice bringing his fingers curled downward towards his chin.

"Yes, yes!" Maurice huffed. "Will you help me?" 

"Alright, old man," Gaston stood and smiled "We'll help you out. Everyone! Stop laughing at once!" he shouted sweeping his arm out to address the crowd. The tavern quieted as a few people muttered questions to each other. He patted Maurice on the back and nodded to the three farmhands. 

" You will?" Maurice gawked in amazement. They heaved Maurice's arms over their necks on to their shoulders and lifted him walking towards the door. "Thank you! THANK you!" he called out. The three heaved him out, shoving him onto the street.

" And now, you're out," smirked Gaston. He bent over slapping his knee laughing. The other villagers in the tavern burst out laughing as well at the dry joke. 

" Crazy old Maurice," the cheered, clinking their mugs. 

Father Robert was shocked. Maurice was going to be Gaston's father in law and Gaston just had him thrown into the wet snowy streets as if he was an unruly drunkard? Something was off. Looking at Gaston he saw the man was sitting pensively in his animal hide chair and Lefou was whispering to him. They both were grinning gleefully. Father Robert had seen that same smile on wicked schoolboys who picked off the legs of living frogs when they thought none where watching. He would address that later. Right now, he was worried Maurice may do himself a harm in his state.

He slipped out of the tavern, unnoticed but the villagers who were once again singing. Maurice was on knees in the bitter cold village square. The cobblestones where wet with puddles from gathered snow melting on the late autumn night.

" Will no one help me?" Maurice was crying out.

" There, there, my good man," Father Robert said patting Maurice on his shoulder. Maurice looked up at priest as Father Robert pulled him up to his feet. "Up we go, let's get you home."

"But Belle!" Maurice cried out.

"Let's talk indoors out of the weather, shall we? " He wanted to get Maurice home. His daughter should be there to care for him. 

It was a short several minute walk back to the two-story cottage home, but the dark bleak weather made it feel perilous. The cold seeped into their bones and their noses ran when they entered. The cottage was dark within and the fireplace appeared to have been used since morning.

" Belle is not hear then?" the priest noted. 

Maurice shook his head and a coughing fit overtook him. Father Robert guided him to a rocking chair by the hearth and stirred up the coals to find warmth underneath. He crouched by the hearth and put a few small logs and kindling reeds on to ensure a fire did start. He found the circumstances strange. After the afternoon he presumed that the young woman would be home. He moved to sit across from Maurice when small flames finally grew. 

"Did Belle run away after Gaston came here?"

"Why would he come here," Maurice wheezed, shaking his head.

"For the wedding?" Father Robert hinted.

"What?" Maurice coughed. His eyes grew wide and frantic. "WHAT happened?!"

"Gaston came to gather you and Belle for the wedding outside today. Gaston returned to the ceremony site and said that Belle had cold feet since you weren't home."

"Why that sly sneaky, son of a..." Maurice scowled catching himself before he swore. 

" I knew nothing of this matter. I actually spoke to Gaston three months ago about respecting Belle’s space. I left two days ago with my invention for a competition."

"Hmm, interesting.” Father Robert wondered. “You obviously have returned. Did Belle leave to find you then?"

" She did find me...at the castle," Maurice explained coughing. 

The priest sighed, folding his hands in contemplation. There was no castle for miles around. The closest one was in ruin in a wide plain and a two days journey southward. Maurice was obviously fighting some illness by his state of coughing and wheezing. Perhaps the illness was altering his thoughts. In that case a physician was needed. Unfortunately, the village had no local physician often relying on their own resources or a physician from a neighboring town. Father Robert wondered if he should send for him. 

It was also often said that genius and madness go hand in hand. Based on Maurice’s other repairs around the village, there was no doubt his invention was a wonder. However, the corruption one’s mind could happen from the fumes of machinery and invention; like a hatter growing mad from his trade. He had heard there was a small explosion from the cottage workshop three days prior. Perhaps the smoke had addled this man’s mind? The daughter was not home and she must have fled somewhere. The Father prayed that she was safe. This delusion of a beast in a castle was a strange riddle.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do at the moment in this weather."

"But the Beast!"

"Other than imprisonment, did the Beast harm you? Tortured or abused you?" 

"Well he dragged me by my cape into the castle. Then I was locked in a cell all night. And then when Belle appeared to rescue me, he dragged me out. I was bounced about until I was sick in a carriage. It moved I tell you! It moved without wheels or a horse."

Father Robert cocked an eyebrow at that outlandish notion.

"But you were not beaten or maimed?" he questioned, trying to keep Maurice on track.

"No."

"Were you given food and water?". 

"Yes…but, you must listen! She did nothing wrong! We _must_ rescue her!"

The priest nodded holding out his hand for quiet. He was sure Maurice knew of the wedding now. It appeared his mind was unravelling, and he saw a friend or associate that he and Belle visited as a Beast. Maurice was, for the moment, delusional.

"Well if this Beast did not harm you, then it stands to reason that Belle will not be harmed. She is an intelligent and strong willed. She will be able to endure until we can rescue her." 

Father Robert made up his mind to send for the physician for Maurice. He would also write his other nearby clergy associates to see if they knew of any wandering fair maidens with brown hair from the past day. If Belle had run away from her alleged betrothed, she couldn't have gone far. 

"But for now, you must recover your strength in mind and body. You will do no good for Belle as you are now. I will send for a physician to aid you. Rest and be at peace until you are well again. Then, come seek me out."

"Yes, you are right," Maurice nodded defeatedly. "Thank you, Father. I just pray we aren't too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Thanks for reading.😊 Happy Beltane to all⚘  
> I wanted to keep this story as much of Belle and Beast POV as possible, but somethings need to be addressed. Like Maurice in the village. I absolutely hated when Gaston and tavern folks kicked Maurice out into the street as a kid. That was the scene that made me cry the most. So we are going to insert BATB2017 inspired Father Robert to help a guy out the best he can.  
> I'll try to have a new chapter out with 1-2 weeks🥀🥀🥀🥀


	10. Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's first day in the castle part 1. Belle gets a taste of the pampered castle life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this chapter describing Belle's first day at the castle much longer over 6K words. Instead it is broken up into two parts and this is part 1. (I have a historical detail obsession that I will inflict upon all my readers. #nerdproblems)

Belle looked up from her reading hearing a loud sound thudding against the doors.

"Confounded! MADAME! WAKE UP!" Mrs. Potts was shouting. Looking up from her text, Belle saw Madame de la Grande Bouche being nudged sliding forward on the marbled floor. 

' Huh?" the Madame yawned. Realizing the doors were moving, she bolted upwards and seemed to straighten up.

"Engarde!" she shouted pushed against the doors slamming the shut. "Are you alright cherie!?"

"Um, Madame," Belle stammered. "I think that was Mrs. Potts."

The armoire's carved and painted eyes widened as she made an ooh noise. Sliding over against the wall, the double doors burst open. Mrs. Potts rolled in on a serving cart, her spout steamed and her face was stern. The little teacup Chip giggled hopping in afterwards on the ground.

"Madame, I do appreciate your efforts, but I do wish that **You** not bar me from my duties," Mrs. Potts scolded.

"Ahem, heheh," the armoire chuckled embarrassed. "My apologies, Mrs. Potts." Mrs. Potts squinted and shook her head.

"Sorry for such a loud wake up, dearie," Mrs. Potts addressed Belle, rolling closer to her.

"Hi ya Belle," Chip squeaked hopping onto the cart between the sugar and creamer porcelain. A decorative clawfoot footstool also bounded in and ran to the Madame. It was barking. It almost looked to Belle as if the two tassels were ears and another larger tassel was a tail.

" Ooo! Sultan!" Madame de la Grande Bouche squealed, bending and petting the footstool. "How is my petite doudou? Where were you? Did you spend all night with mon amour." The footstool continued to bark and circle the armoire.

 _'A magic furniture dog too,'_ Belle marveled.

"It's no problem," Belle smiled at Mrs. Potts. She moved the book ribbon within the spine to hold her page. "I've already been awake for sometime, now. I found a lovely book I haven't read in ages. It's about two lovers in Italy where their love is forbidden by their warring families and-"

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Potts exclaimed in dismay. "I'm so sorry. I thought you might need extra rest. I should have come sooner." She hopped on to the left nightstand and looked upwards to a golden silk cord. "If you should need anything please pull that cord. Or better yet, awaken the Madame. She has a habit of falling asleep far too often."

"Hmf!" the armoire seemed to cross it's bronze handles like arms. "I'm sorry, but this state forces me to take my beauty sleep." 

"Anyhow-" Mrs. Potts bobbed. "-shall we help you dress? Your gown is cleaned. We also took care with some of the mending.” A bronze clothing rack rolled in behind the folded screen. Belle stood up and walked to the screen.

"Are you certain you won't wear something more suitable for castle life?" the Madame questioned opening up her cabinet door. The armoire was filled with gowns that appeared just as heavy as those in the portraits of the wealthy hung about the room.

"No thank you," Belle replied. "I do recognize my station. I would feel awkward dressing above. Unless, is it required?"

"Certainly not," Madame shook, "though a fresh chemise may suit you better. At least give it a try." A crisp white shift hovered from her drawer onto the clothing rack as the Madame moved to the other side of the folding screen.

"Alright," Belle agreed, seeing no harm in a fresh shift. She slipped her shift off and put on the starched white shift. She instantly recognized that the weave was far fine and softer. It was perfumed with a lemon lavender scent and was more sheer that her thicker woven shift. Intricate lace trimmed the sleeves and hem. It clung lightly to her as she could see her own skin underneath. It felt delicate and far too fine. Feeling some embarrassment, she walked out from the folded screen in front of the magical items, bringing her hands clutched under her chin to hide her torso.

" She looks like an angel, Mama!" Chip squeaked. 

" This is far too fine for a person of my station," Belle said. " I cannot accept this."

" Ma bella! It is a gift!" the armoire replied. " I haven't used my fashion skills in forever. Please allow me to dress you free of any charge."

"Don't fret, love," Mrs. Potts assured nodding with a smile. Belle felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. These two were so kind. 

"Very well, thank you," Belle smiled. She went behind the screen once more and finished her dressing with her stays and gown. She noted that her navy cloak had also been cleaned and hung on the dressing rack as well. She hadn't even realized it fell off her when she came into this room. 

"Over here dearie," Mrs. Potts called. Belle walked out from behind the screen fully dressed and over to the fireplace alcove. Mrs. Pott's cart was with the alcove as the fireplace blazed warmly. "You must eat. I shan't have the two of you starving yourselves."

"The two of us?" Belle wondered out loud.

" Oop!" Mrs. Potts eyes wide with surprise. Belle could tell Mrs. Potts said something she hadn't intended. "Oh, never you mind."

Belle sat down on the pastel multicolored brocade chair as a silver three-tiered tea tray waddled off the cart onto a low table. It was covered with croissants, jams, jellies, plates and all sorts of tarts. Chip also bounced onto the table with Mrs. Potts. They prepared a dark tea the same way as they did before with sugar and cream. The footstool cheerfully barked and ran to Belle putting its clawed feet onto the chair.

" No no! Sultan!" Madame de la Grande Bouche scolded. " Off!" 

"Off," Belle commanded, snapping her fingers and pointing down. The footstool sat still whimpering and Belle gave the magical footstool a pet. 

The footstool barked and then wriggled under her feet, propping them up. A small lavender and gold decorated white porcelain plate spun and landed in Belle's hand.

"Thank you," Belle smiled.

"No bubbles, now!" Mrs. Potts warned as Chip hopped closer to Belle.

"Don't worry!" he chimed. Belle took a sip and started to snack on the fluffiest croissants she had ever tasted.

" Mrs. Potts," Belle began. "Thank you for the food, but I am a little confused as well. My father received such ill treatment, but I am being so well pampered. Why is that?"

"Well, dearie" Mrs. Potts explained. "When your father first arrived, we did see to him. Gave him a cup of tea and warmed him by the fire after he had been lost in the cold night for so long. We offered him a room to stay but he said he'd go and look for his horse. But then he wandered around and tried to take a rose. And that was when the Master lost his temper at that and overreacted."

"That's for certain," Belle scoffed. 

"But the Master has his reasons dear," Mrs. Potts remarked. "Maybe you can ask him yourself one day. But the Master did say that you are a resident now and the castle is your home. We will make sure you will have all the luxuries anyone could ever want. Besides, I don't think the Master will be treating you as poorly as your father was treated either, since you are not the one who tried to take the rose. You are the not the cause of his anger and besides, he's not that cruel."

"I'm not sure about that..." Belle said munching on another croissant.

"Now mon cherie," the Madame lumbered towards the alcove. "I am wondering. It appears the fashion styles have of course changed since we've been stuck here. Would you please explain them so I may provide you with a suitable wardrobe."

"Since you've been stuck here?" Belle wondered out loud. "Just a moment...did... did he do this to you?" 

_' Maybe the creature doesn't eat people,'_ Belle thought. _'Maybe he imprisons them, and they turn into household items!'_ Images of her slowly morphing into a book came to her mind as she imagined the staff may have been prisoners here once as well. 

"Am I going to turn into-" Belle looked the armoire up and down, "-well, something like you?"

"Oh no! No no!" Mrs. Potts chuckled. "You see... well, something happened long ago. What happened was our own consequences of our inaction. We did this to ourselves and we didn't see what had happened, until it was too late."

" I'm afraid I don't understand?" Belle contemplated out loud. She tilted her head. "Could you explain more?"

"I'm afraid not mon cherie," the Madame sighed.

"Something, some willpower prevents us, you see," Mrs. Potts explained. "It's like it gets caught in our throats and we freeze solid for a few moments."

" That's terrible. I'm sorry," Belle nodded. "It's a spell of some sort then....were you all once human then?"

" Can't say, love," Mrs. Potts sighed. The Madame hummed and even the little teacup seemed to droop.

"I see," Belle bit her lip at their downtrodden reactions. She felt awkward for depressing the magical items. However, she was a bit pleased to confirm the magical item folk may have been human one point or at least have human souls. "How curious..."

"Well, that is in the past my dear," Mrs. Potts said enthusiastically. She hopped off the cart and nudged the little teacup. Chip leaned into her smiling. "One thing I know for sure is we mustn’t let our troubles bring down our spirits. Please enjoy. We must leave you and return to work."

Mrs. Potts nudged Chip toward the cart and they hopped on, beginning to roll away.

"Buh bye!" Chip squeaked. The double doors opened and closed. Belle wanted to reflect on the conversation as she nibbled a crisp apple tart, but found the armoire had other plans.

" Now, Mademoiselle," the Madame announced. "I would like to further discuss your wardrobe. Certainly, I can make some fashionable attire for you?"

"I'm afraid I'm completely the wrong person to ask about fashion," Belle chuckled, holding her hand over mouth preventing any crumbs falling out. "My clothing is made for comfort and unfortunately, I don't know of the current fashions of the cities."

'Well we can still try," the Madame cheerfully proclaimed. "For example, you wear no panniers under your over gown. And your stays, they are very high. It is such a change!"

"I'm sorry," Belle said. "I think only grandmothers wore panniers long ago. Petticoats are standard."

"I see. And the 'v' waist is gone?" Madame asked curiously.

"Well, for me," Belle explained. "I'm not highly skilled with sewing. But other girls seem to wear it. I think that shape is returning."

"Bon," the armoire clapped her bronze handles excitedly. "And your gown; no sleeves? Your chemise is displayed?"

"Erm, well," Belle blinked slightly embarrassed. "-that is not the style but my own circumstances of altering an older gown for everyday use. It was my mother's and the shorter shoulder sleeves did not fit me. So, I took them off and I never got around to replacing them."

 _'Papa simply couldn't afford such frivolities as quality fabric,'_ Belle sighed to herself. _'It doesn't really matter anyhow. Sleeves are sleeves whether they are on a gown or chemise.'_

"Oh! A daring trend setter, I see," Madame remarked. "I'll fetch the seamstress and we can focus on dressing you more regally,"

"Perhaps we can wait a bit longer. It's not that I don't appreciate what you are trying to do, but all of this is a huge change for me." 

"But of course. It will take some time to select suitable fabrics," Madame remarked. " After all, a wardrobe is a woman's wealth. Her lands, titles and situation may alter but her clothing is hers."

 _'I suppose I never thought of clothing in that manner,'_ Belle thought to herself.

" Well, let us look at fabrics within a few days time, then," Madame suggested, practically bouncing with joy.

"Yes, thank you," Belle nodded. "Another thing that is bothering me is my horse. He didn't leave with my father. Does anyone know what became of him?"

"Oh, just pull the cord a few times to ring the bell and another staff member will be along shortly to answer your questions."

Belle walked over the golden cord near her bedside and pulled lightly five times. She sat back down by the warm fireplace as she ate more breakfast. Madame continued on with more seemingly unending questions that Belle had never considered. Questions about fabric weight, hemlines, lace, ruffles, necklines, bows, bodices, bonnets, caps, wings, hairpins, veils, gloves, capes, even shoes and heel height. Belle felt a bit awkward for not knowing all the answers. 

_'Honestly, I could care less for appearances,'_ Belle thought to herself. The Madame was explaining the differences between Venetian and Krakow lace. _'The heart matters more than riches.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you watch historical movies and say something is set in th 18th century orn19th century, fashion changed drastically from decade to decade. Just like 1950s clothing is different fro 1970s clothing, I wanted to point out the passage of time through clothing. I'll leave you to learn about panniers on your own time.


	11. Many Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's first day at the castle part 2. Belle meets more of the castle staff as she is pampered. Theres Lumiere, Cogsworth and Fifi...or is it Plumette...or is it Fifi???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Belle's first day in the castle a.k.a spa day!🛀

Belle was seated in her room and answered the seemingly unending fashion questions Madame de la Grande Bouche had. Belle felt a bit awkward for not knowing all the answers but didn't care for the idea of fashion anyways. While the unmarried girls in her village tried to doll themselves up with ribbons and ruffles, simplicity and tidiness suited Belle best. The talk of powdered wigs and painted faces sounded bothersome to her.

A light knock sounded at the doors.

"That must be the news, cherie," Madame chimed. " Eeeenteeer!" she sang.

A door opened and the small clock, Cogsworth entered as well as a hoping golden candelabra with three candle sticks a glow. The center candle had wax melting into the shape of a face with a prominent nose. They walked closer to the alcove. 

"Splendid to see up and about, Mademoiselle," Cogsworth greeted. "I am sorry about the lack of introduction last night," he bowed. " I am Cogsworth, the head of household."

The candelabra hopped onto the low table and reached for Belle's hand. He seemed to kiss it like an over enthusiastic gentleman.

"Enchante Mademoiselle!" the candelabra greeted in a charming voice. Cogsworth shoved the candelabra out of the way.

"This is Lumiere," he flatly stated pointing to the candelabra with his bronze ornamentations. Lumiere moved his flaming candle like an arm against the clock's bronze ornamentations and Cogsworth yelped from the flame. 

_'Well it's clear these two have clashing personalities,'_ Belle observed. _'And they can feel some measure of pain.'_

" I am ze Matrie'D," Lumiere announced bowing. "How may we assist you Mademoiselle?"

" Well, I wanted to know what became of my horse, Philippe," Belle explained. "Can you tell me if he is alright?"

" Ah, yes, your steed was stabled, fed the best feed and groomed well as soon as you had arrived," Cogsworth replied.

" Really? That's wonderful," Belle said.

"But of course," Lumiere replied theatrically "How else is one supposed to treat one's guest?"

"Thank you for your trouble," Belle repeated.

"Your welcome but it is our honor," Cogsworth bowed. 

"We hope to see you tonight at dinner, mon chere" Lumiere continued pushing Cogsworth away.

"Yes, yes," Cogsworth squinted at Lumiere and nudged him. "We have an exquisite selection planned for you tonight."

"I'm sorry," Belle stammered hesitantly. "I thought I made it clear yesterday. I don't wish to go to dinner with your Master."

"Oh, but Mademoiselle," Cogsworth began. "I can assure you the Master won't be attending."

"Especially while he's sulking in one of his moods," Lumiere mumbled, crossing two candles over like arms. Cogsworth nudged Lumiere, almost knocking him over. Belle raised her eyebrow questioningly. 

_'A sulking mood?'_ Belle wondered. _'Still, I don't know if that creature will be roaming around.'_

"I'm sorry," Belle stated. "I am not comfortable with the situation."

"But Mademoiselle," Lumiere pleaded. "we shall provide you comforts and entertainments that you taste buds have never dreamed off."

"That's enough you two," Mrs. Potts sounded entering the room. " Stop hounding the poor girl. Can't you see the lady needs her space."

"But the Master..." Lumiere whispered.

"The Master got himself into this mess-" Mrs. Potts cut him off. "-and he's not a child to coddle. If the Master refuses to eat his meals properly, then no one else should be forced to dine unwilling."

"Ugh," Cogsworth sighed. "I suppose, your right."

"Don't you worry Miss," Mrs. Potts stated hopping on to the low table. "You can take your meals in here as long as you like."

"Thank you," Belle nodded smiling. Mrs. Potts smiled in return.

"Now you two, please leave, it's the business of women folk in here," she nudged Cogsworth and Lumiere. "The lady can be entertained some other time."

" Very well," Cogsworth puffed. "do let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable."

" Au revoir, Mademoiselle," Lumiere nodded and bowed. The two softly bickered as they went out of the room.

"I told you the appetizer parade was too much!" Cogsworth bristled.

"No, no! We must think of something much, much bigger! It will be the finest dining performance ever," Lumiere exclaimed hopping out the door.

" Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Cogsworth scurried frantically after the excited candelabra. The dog like footstool bounded, yapping after them seeming to want the freedom of the castle halls.

"Send my love to the Maestro mon peite chou," the Madame called out to the footstool. The doors shut behind them. 

_'Appetizer parade?'_ Belle puzzled. 

"Now my dear," Mrs. Potts smiled. "How about a warm bath?"

" But Mrs. Potts! Her humors," Madame de la Grande Bouche gasped.

"Pish posh, everyone has different humor forms," Mrs. Potts retorted. She hopped off the table and towards the vanity. "-and she confirmed that her blood is strong enough for bathing. Plenty of nobles and gentry bath anyhow despite physicians advice. Out of your gown and then this way dear."

A door that blended in with the gold flecked filigree of the wall opened. Belle was surprised at the well-hidden passageway. Within was a small white antechamber with white marble pillars and large hanging mirrors taking up the walls. There were four other doors within, and a domed glass sunroof let light in overhead. 

' _I might as well,’_ Belle decided _. 'I haven't had a warm bath in almost a month. Who knows when I will again. Besides, warm bath water, just for me? That is too good an opportunity to pass up.’_

She stood nodding to Madam de la Grande Bouche and walked to the folding screen. Disrobing to her shift, Belle felt silly undressing before noon. She remembered that she read somewhere that royalty would change into ten different outfits a day. That seemed ridiculous before, but now she wondered if there was some truth to that rumor. She walked to Mrs. Potts who hoped further into the atrium and another door opened. 

"What on earth," Belle gasped at the strangeness of the room. The tiled room was steam filled and smelled sweet. Within the center of the room a stone and tiled hexagon basin sat. It reminded Belle of the water fountain in her village. Two feather dusters moved around upright reminding Belle of women in grey skirts. Belle could see feminine facial features shaped on their handles.

"Peculiar, isn't it love," Mrs. Potts chuckled. "Those royals loved the idea of Constantinople. Built this bathing room like the Italian folks. Don't fret. Just take off your shift and jump in like a river on a summer's day."

" And I won't be cooked alive?" Belle raised her eyebrows questioning the amount of steam.

"No love. The heat does wonders for your skin. Leaves it soft as butter."

Belle recalled a book on ancient Greek mythology and the tales mentioning bathhouses. She assumed the design was similar. The air smelled sweet of mallow root, honey and other scents. She walked to the steamy water filled tub and marveled at the intricate color of the patterned tiles forming leaves and flowers. She hesitated, wondering if the bath may be a trick of these magic folk.

 _'I did eat their food and drink though, and nothing happened to me,'_ Belle pondered. _'And I am not changed into some other form. Mrs. Potts did say that their spell was their own doing. Well, no harm has come to me yet.'_ She gathered up her courage and slipped off her chemise as it floated to one of the magical feather dusters. Belle dipped her toe into the steaming hot water. Nothing happened. She moved to sit in the large basin and the steaming water came up to her chin.

" Now, let's get you cleaned up," a feather duster remarked. " Please wet your hair Mademoiselle." Belle dunked her head under and came back up. 

"Now, please step out of the tub and sit on the edge." 

Belle moved to do so. She felt strange being wet and completely exposed in front of the magical folk. She told herself that these items seemed female in a way and there was no shame to cleaning one's body. A bone comb and bowl levitated towards her. The comb began to run through her hair as flaky soap powder sprinkled down from the bowl. Her hair grew sudsy and smelled of rosemary. Meanwhile, a cloth of soapy flakes also levitated to her forearm and began to scrub. 

" Oh, I can do that," Belle blushed. The cloth then rested on the bath ledge. Belle scrubbed herself and a bristled boar hair brush wiggled at her toes scrubbing some sort of paste along her toes and bottom of her feet. A shiny copper basin bounced along the floor to her feet.

" Please stand here, Mademoiselle," a feather duster asked. Belle stood within the basin that came halfway up her shins. She closed her eyes as she was doused head to toe with pitchers of warm water until the soapy water covered her feet. She fought to keep her hands down to cover herself. 

" Mon Dieu," remarked a feather duster. " Not a single flea or any lice on her head." 

" So clean!" the other feather duster marveled. 

_' I know how to clean myself, but I guess they are just doing their jobs.'_ Belle thought. _‘And that foot scrub was pleasant.’_

“Now sit in the water Mademoiselle," the feather dusters asked.

"Back into the water?" Belle asked. " But I am clean?"

"Please, Mademoiselle," the feather dusters giggled. Belle sat back into the steaming mallow scented water confused. The comb went to work, working a scent oil through her hair over the bath basin's edge. Belle closed her eyes, reminded of how her sisters would comb her hair long ago. A small brush and bowl appeared with a paste that smelled of lemon, rose and honey. The brush paint painted the mixture covering her face entirely. 

"Please raise your hands out of the water on to the edges of the bath," the feather dusters asked. " We shall care for those fingertips now." 

Belle did so and watched a pen like object float to her hands. It rubbed against her nails feeling strange. Nail by nail, the pen left them shorter, but it rounded the tips to a smooth crescent moon shape.

' Interest,' Belle observed. ‘Shaping fingernails with no paring knife.' A warm damp cloth levitated to her again and wiped mixture off her face. 

" Lean you head back please, Mademoiselle," a feather duster asked. Belle did so and her head almost hung upside down.

" Like so?" Belle asked.

" Yes, thank you, Mademoiselle," a feather duster replied.

A warm pitcher of water rinsed through her hair and face into the copper basin. The feather duster asked her to sit up again as a towel cloth twisted and rolled around her hair. The towel of hair then folded and plopped atop her head. The two feather dusters moved to the ledge of the bath across from Belle.

 _'They both look so similar,'_ Belle noticed. _'Cherry wood stained lips and heavy ashy eyelids. It looks like they both have small feathers as eyelashes and the same dark spot like a mole under their eye as well._

" Please relax in the bath, Mademoiselle," a feather duster suggested.

" We will be right outside and will return in a few minutes," the other feather duster giggled. They both moved towards the door.

" One moment," Belle called to them. She flipped around in the tub, resting her hands on the ledge under her chin. They stopped and turned back to face her. " May I ask you your names, please?"

They looked at one another.

"Oh, Mademoiselle," a feather duster smiled.

"It will not matter anyway," the other giggled.

"Oh?" Belle sounded curious. 

"We are twins, you see."

"None can tell us apart."

"Two peas in a pod."

" I am Fifi," one twirled giggled.

"And I am Plumette," the other spun weaving behind the other. They then both spun around each other. Belle nodded understanding what they meant. It was difficult to tell them apart. 

"Well, I am glad you told me," she smiled. " I am Belle. Thank you for helping me."

"You are very welcome."

"Anything for our honored guest."

They twirled again and went out the door. Belle was finally alone with her thoughts. 

_'I've met so many new people,'_ Belle mind wandered as she sank into the warm water. She kicked her feet slowly in the water and pushed against the water with her hands. _'Even if they are magical folk, they certainly act like people. And Mrs. Potts could not confirm if they once normal people. I wonder what kind of magic spell is in place on this castle? And how did these magic folk came to be? Is it a spell of the creature's doing?_

_All of the magical items have names and they're all polite. I wonder what that creature's name is? Not that I want to run into him. And I'm happy Mrs. Potts was right and I wasn't harmed. Still, Philippe is here, I will need to walk him soon. I don't want Monday morning sickness setting in. And that means leaving my room. If I do run into Him certainly can't address him as 'creature.' And I do not serve him so He is not my master. I guess there is nothing that can be done about that right now._

_My bedchamber is so bright and spectacular unlike the rest of the castle. All of those statues were horrible. But there again, were some interesting treasures in the corridors. And it was dark when I arrived. Maybe it isn't so gruesome in the daylight?_

_There are enough treasures in my room alone to feed the entire village for a year. It certainly would fix up our shed for the animals we could finally have a few more cupboards and pots for cooking. Maybe some new clothing and books too? Not that I could enjoy them at home though.'_ Belle looked around at the designs in the tiles. 

_'But I do have Romeo and Juliet here and new clothing if Madam de la Grande Bouche has her way. What an odd name for an armoire...and she thought women still wore panniers. No one's worn those since the revolution. I wonder how long she has been in the castle? How old is this castle anyhow? And why wasn't it stormed during the wars? Has some magic protected it from invasion? There must be a way I can find out without the magic folk freezing....’_

" Excuse me Miss," she heard Mrs. Potts enter. "You've been soaking for quite long enough now. You'll become a prune.” A towel floated along in the air and the two feather dusters stood at the door appearing bashful. It appeared the twin feather dusters had been neglecting their duties. Belle wondered how long she had been lost in thought. Her fingertips were wrinkled and the warm water no longer steaming hot. " Come on dearie, out you go now. I swear, you and the Master with your soaking."

" He bathes as well?" Belle wondered out loud. She couldn't imagine the creature bathing anywhere but a forest river. "In here?"

" Oh no, don't fret," Mrs. Potts assured. "He has his own apartments."

 _'Separate baths in one castle,'_ Belle thought. _'That is impressive.'_

She stood out of the tub and a towel patted her down. She was surprised that her legs that were sore from riding all night felt well rested from the water's warmth. A cloth with a mixture of floral scented oils moved along her arms and legs. As it moved to her backside, Belle grabbed the cloth before it could reach her bottom.

" I can do that," Belle blushed, rubbing the oiled cloth on her bottom and her front torso. 

" Arms up please, Mademoiselle," a feather duster asked. Belle raised her arms and a fresh scented shift, just as light and soft, floated down and slipped onto her. A pair satin slippers slid on the floor in front of her and she stepped into them. A silk brocade banyan also floated and slipped over Belle's arms.

" Now, you must sit by the fire to dry, dearie," Mrs. Potts instructed and hopped out of the bath into the antechamber. Belle followed and moved into her bedchamber towards the fireplace. She sat down in one of the chairs and it was toasty warm. On the low table was a different three tiered tea tray with assorted finger sandwiches, tarts and fruits on top of some sort of pastry. A silver cup of creamy liquid steamed. 

"We shall style your hair, Mademoiselle," one of the feather duster twins stated.

"Is there any particular favorite way you prefer," asked the other twin.

"Oh, no thank you," Belle winced. She had seen the portraits of the ladies in the room and couldn't imagine ever wearing something so grandiose. "I much prefer my hair as it is."

"In a military pigeon wing?" Madam de la Grande Bouche asked hesitantly.

"But Mademoiselle, we can add powder!" chirped a feather duster.

"Or a cone to make your hair a work of art," the other twin suggested.

"Perhaps, you have a wig in store, Madame?" the twin feather duster asked. 

_'This is why fashion is a bore,'_ Belle inhaled rolling her eyes. 

"Please, no thank you," she said standing up putting her hand out. "I honestly prefer simplicity and utility when dressing."

She walked over to the vanity and grabbed a silver handled comb. Unwrapping the towel from her hair she sat back down near the fireplace and began combing out her own hair.

"Mon Dieu, she is a trend setter!" The Madame chuckled. "Showing her shift sleeves and wearing men's hair styles. So bold."

"Ladies, you are excused," Mrs. Potts addressed the feather dusters.

"Fifi! Plumette!" Belle called out. " Thank you for your help." The feather duster twins bowed and chattered giggling out the door. Belle felt a pang of guilt. 

She hadn't intended to sound dismissive to their help, but all of this fuss was starting to overwhelm her. She was used to the solitude of her home. Papa often tinkered either in the village or in his workshop. The cottage was left empty most of the time. Belle missed the trickle of the small river and the clank of the water wheel as she went about her chores and read. Belle glanced towards the tall windows, slowly combing out her hair near the fireplace heat. The sky no longer looked foggy, but a thick blanket of grey clouds hung. 

" Would you like to chat while your hair is drying dearie?" Mrs. Potts asked resting on the low table. "Much has changed for you and it seemed that you had a hard time before this."

"It is a lot of change," Belle agreed. " But I'm not sure if I am able to talk about it. Usually quiet contemplation suits me best."

"You don't have to keep your troubles to yourself," Mrs. Potts remarked. "All of us are willing to lend an ear."

"I appreciate that," Belle sighed. "But....when I do have troubles, I find that reading helps the most. I found a book in this room: Romeo and Juliet. Have either of you read it?"

"Can't say that I have love," Mrs. Potts replied. "Too much to do in this castle."

"I know of the play mon cherie but reading doesn't suit me either," the Madame said. "I much prefer the theater! The opera! There is so much to do for a _prima donna assoluta_. Diva internationale." The Madame then belted out a high noted trill.

"Oh," Belle was stunned. " Are you an opera fan then?"

" Ma Bella, I was...." the Madame then froze. Her eyes closed blending into the flourishes of the wood and her face seemed to disappear entirely. She became a stiff normal piece of furniture. 

" Oh dear," Mrs. Potts sighed. Belle stood up and placed her hand on the armoire's brass handle. 

" Is she alright?" Belle asked, concerned. 

" Yes, Miss," Mrs. Potts replied. "This is what happens sometimes if we talk too much about the past. We freeze. She'll be alright in a moment or two.

" Poor Madame," Belle patted the bronze handle. She already had become accustomed to the large flamboyant gestures of the armoire and it made her uneasy to see the magical furniture so still.

 _'I guess, I’ll need to be cautious when asking questions,_ ' Belle thought. _'I don't want that happening to these magic folk randomly.'_

" Well, dearie, you go ahead and have some lunch," Mrs. Potts said. Belle moved to sit back down and smiled. " Try some of the cocoa." 

Belle reached for the engraved silver mug of liquid chocolate. It didn't move about like the previous teacup child. It had been years since she had a cup in the city. She sipped the rich sweet creamy drink and smiled. 

" It's delicious!" Belle exclaimed. "Thank you." A snore sounded from the wall.

" See! Madame is back to normal," Mrs. Potts said cheerfully. "Better let her rest and get her beauty sleep in. You go on and eat, love. I have work to attend to, but you relax and enjoy yourself today. I'll return in the evening."

"Thank you," Belle nodded. She stood up to gather up Romeo and Juliet and read while she ate the strawberries and sandwiches. Mrs. Potts hopped out the door as it closed behind her. Around the corner Chip was listening to Cogsworth and Lumiere. 

" We must have the chandelier reveal mon ami!" Lumiere argued.

" Do you have any idea what a waste of champagne that is!" Cogsworth was holding his face. "The basic flour and sugar stores may regenerate on their own, but the glass house, stables and the cellar are limited! And now we have to feed two!" Cogsworth shook Lumiere in frustration.

" Oh stop your griping," Mrs. Potts huffed. "Lumiere is right. We should impress our guest."

Cogsworth sputtered and crossed his arms and Lumiere gave him a mocking look.

" Sadly, it's happened again," Mrs. Potts sighed. "Madam de la Grande Bouche froze when she tried to speak about her past."

"Just like when we tried to speak to the girl's father," Lumiere said worryingly. Cogsworth wrung his own bronze ornamentation arms concerned.

"Poor Madame, she was so happy in that moment," Mrs. Potts nodded. "She actually sang out like she did before. I haven't heard her music for who knows when."

"I'm sorry everyone I wish I could remember the time," Cogsworth sighed and slouched. "This cursed chime goes off always but...but.. I can never remember how many times." 

" It's alright mon ami,"Lumiere consoled him, patting Cogsworth on the back. "Do not blame yourself. None of us can remember either."

"Mama," Chip asked cautiously "will I ever be a real boy again?" Mrs. Potts moved closer to the tiny teacup nuzzling him the best she could

"Oh, don't you worry my sweet boy!" she cooed. "We'll have our days in the sun. You'll see!"

"Oui!" Lumiere joyfully exclaimed. He put up his candle arms and they flared up glowing bright. " Why, even the fog is gone today! We can finally see the clouds. Soon we'll see the sun, the lovebirds will fall for each other and we'll be human in no time!"

But there was no sun that day. Instead, snow started to fall in the evening when after dinner in her room, Belle began to read Romeo and Juliet for the third time that day. The Beast saw the fresh evening snowflakes drift along outside as he finally awoke that night. He stared at the glowing rose and a sparkling rose petal began to wilt away from the flower. It was ready to fall. His stomach sank with hopelessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for history lessons, because that's what half of this chapter is. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> This is a great source for old fashion hygiene products:  
> https://archive.org/details/toiletofflora00buch
> 
> Mallow root is the original ingredient of marshmallows. If you have the opportunity to make marshmallows from scratch with mallow root, I do warn that it is tedious but so much more flavor filled. Can also be used in baths for marshmallow scented baths!  
> I wanted to add some historical context regarding hair and bathing: While it was common advice to not bath regularly in Western Europe during the 17-19th century, many people still did. A daily "bath" with a wet cloth or spirits was far more common but most were cautious to avoid water opening up their pores and letting in diseases. Those that took baths were often considered perverse or of low breeding taking river baths like peasants. Changing your undergarments regularly (shirts for men or shifts for women) was far more commonplace. The wealthy did go to great lengths changing several times a day if they could to avoid sweat building up on their undergarments. Before then, bathhouses were considered common place (if you could afford them) during the Medival and Renaissance periods. Unfortunately, after some plagues and some bathhouses turning into brothels, the church blamed bathhouses for the spread of plague and immorality and bathing became unpopular again. In the Victorian era, bathing became popular again. 
> 
> There were very specific hair styles for men and women throughout history. Womens hairstyles were twisted, in a bun or bonnet to prevent or hid the fleas and lice in hair. Wearing your hair loose and unbraided was simply not done. Belle' Disney 1991 hair style is most similar to the male hairstyles of the 18th century worn specifically by military men. I don't imagine her at risk of getting lice or fleas from the small population of villagers, especially since she appears to spend time alone reading. Through a historical lens, Belle's outfit is the modern day equivalent of a crew cut with her bra straps or underwear (her shift) showing. 
> 
> I did give her stockings unlike her cartoon counterpart. Not wearing stockings for men or women meant getting whatever mud and disgusting chamberpot "water" was that was on the street splashed on you. It also risked insect bites as well. Walking the city streets without stockings was like walking without shoes. (Hookworm is real people!) I don't imagine Belle risking that much uncleanly behavior.


	12. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast copes with the knowledge that Belle is terrified of him and Belle grows restless with her new routine.

The Beast stretched out feeling his feet tangled in his red cape. It was wrapped around him as he was laying on the worn carpet of his bedchamber floor. He slowly woke feeling disoriented as to why he was on the floor. Sitting up and propping his back against the wall he remembered why... 

The old trespasser was gone. The daughter; a young beauty, had found the castle and exchanged her freedom for the old man. Despite giving her beautiful accommodations and inviting her to dinner, she shunned his efforts. He thought it was defiance, but he had seen the truth through his magic mirror. She was utterly terrified of him. He knew it was a futile effort to try and woo her. For years he believed that he would stay a beast forever and while he was angry at that fate, he accepted it to some extent. Now this girl was here in his castle. She was a hope beyond his influence. A star he could see from afar but never reach. 

After gazing in the mirror, the Beast had trudged back to his bedchambers. He had gazed at the enchanted rose with sadness and anger as he leaned against the stone pedestal. He remembered that Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth knocked on the doors of his bedchamber late after midnight when his dinner was abandoned.

"What is it?" he mumbled as the door creaked open.

"Please excuse us Master but we are concerned for the welfare of the new resident," Cogsworth said.

"Master, perhaps it is not wise to not feed the girl. After all you do want her to fall in love with you?" Lumiere added

"It does no good to starve the poor girl, Sir," Mrs. Potts explained. "And I don't think you are that cruel. Trust us, she's certain to come out in her own time."

"Yes yes!" Lumiere agreed. "She is but a timid rabbit in a den and if a hound is barking, she will stay in the den burrowing away. But if the hound backs off, then ze rabbit will emerge." 

" Yes sir, you must be gentle and patient," Mrs. Potts agreed.

He stared down at the magical objects. They were cursed; mere ghosts of their former selves and it was all his doing. A numbness had taken hold within his heart. He simply didn't know what to do about the young woman. It was hopeless anyways.

"Fine! Leave me be," the Beast snapped at them growling more than he intended. The door closed leaving him to the darkness and the glow of the rose. He flopped against the wall irritated and stared at the mesmerizing glow of the rose as his thoughts of hopelessness swirled into uneasy sleep.

Presently, light snowflakes were falling in the blue clouded sky.

 _'I must have fallen asleep,'_ the Beast now assumed. _'Is it morning or evening?'_

He stood up from the rug and walked to the tall balcony windows. Glancing to his right, he saw another petal shimmering and leaning away from the enchanted rose. Another was ready to fall. His stomach sank with a dreadful feeling. It was the final few petals of the center left. In his heart he knew it was the final year as well. How many years had passed; he wasn't certain. The gray fog lingering and any contact with the outside world cut off, his perception of time was disorienting. Time seemed to move slower in the gray fog of his dark castle.

 _'What is that noise?'_ the Beast's ears pricked at a strange choir. His sensitive animalistic ears heard music playing far away somewhere within the castle. He walked across the bedchamber and opened up the door. Sticking his head into the corridor, he heard the sound softly echoing from several floors away.

" Okay! One more time mes amiees!" He heard the echoing shouts of Lumiere in his northern accent. "This is to be the greatest spectacular ever for ze Mademoiselle!"

The music started again.

"Be our guest! Be our guest!"

They sounded so cheerful. It was so annoying. 

He growled and closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the hall. His clawed bare feet thudded down the halls. He left the castle to find quiet in the sound of the twilight snowfall outside. The air echoed and the snow crinkled as he made his way through the finely trimmed hedges and garden grounds. The evergreen boughs were covered in a light dusting of snowfall. 

The Beast continued to wander aimlessly as night grew longer. His feet lumbered past his castle grounds and towards the nighttime mountain pines. His nostrils caught the scent of deer. His stomach willed him forward into the dark forest.

The Beast's sensitive eyes adjusted to nocturnal sight. Slowly, he followed the scent growing stronger and stronger until the morning began with pale blue light. He found a deer herd hunkered down in the brambles taking shelter from the snow. Crouching down and tensing his muscles, he leaped high off the ground into the air. With a pounce he landed onto a buck snapping its neck. The rest dashed away. An easy kill.

Standing up, he began to heave the warm corpse over his shoulders to enjoy within his dark bone littered room. Squeals and snorts shrieked out from the forest. It was coming straight for him. He dropped the deer carcass. A wild boar had the same idea of a hunt and rushed to attack him head on.

The Beast leapt forward and landed on the boar's bristly back. He sank his claws into its thick shoulders and bit into the thick neck. The boar squealed and screeched. The Beast pushed his legs and clawed feet onto the boar's squirming head driving it into the snow and dried leaves. The boar thrashed about using its tusks to try and break free. They scratched at the Beast's legs but the Beast bit harder into the boar's neck. Sticky tangy blood pulsed into the Beast's mouth as the boar struggled its life blood away. When the boar had stopped breathing the Beasts unlatched his claws from its torn shoulders. 

_'Not that hungry,'_ the Beast thought, looking at his two kills. _'Too much meat. Waste to leave it. Wolves will come.'_

He heaved the bloodied boar carcass on his shoulder. Grabbing hold of the buck’s antlers he began to drag the deer along. The Beast trudged through the gray morning forest to the castle. He felt winded arriving at the kitchen external doors. He knelt down and tore a leg off from the hip socket of each creature and opened the heavy wooden door. The bustling kitchen grew silent and still.

"Do something with those," he barked at the confused staff. He stormed through the kitchen with the raw animal legs in hand. He went back to his bedchamber as the morning light grew and devoured the legs. By the time the Beast was cracking the bones and licked the marrow away he felt less angry and full. Cogsworth then knocked at the door. 

"Master," Cogsworth timidly started. "we couldn't help but notice...well, erm the large amount of, well, the blood all over you and we wanted to know if you desire a bath?"

The Beast snarled at Cogsworth's presence. It annoyed him how it brought him out of his animalistic mind. He growled now realizing he took down two woodland beasts with his bare hands within minutes. He snarled at the fact that he was only now realizing that blood was sticking in his beard and along his fur covered shoulders and back. He snarled at the beast he truly was. 

" FINE!" he roared.

"Yes, yes...right away," Cogsworth stammered. 

The Beast took a bath begrudgingly that morning. The water ran red as he rinsed and was still pink when he entered the tub. Lying in the chaise to dry off in a robe, he looked at the sky through the tall windows. Even though the light was still a pale gray light he could see the shapes of the heavy clouds differentiating from the fog he was accustomed to. He hadn't seen such clouds in so very long. His nocturnal hunt and a full stomach tired him. The Beast's eyes closed as he fell asleep watching the overcast gray morning.

* * *

Mrs. Potts loudly knocked on the doors of Belle's bedchambers shouting to be let in. Madame de la Grande Bouche slept barring the door once again and moved out of the way. Belle was surprised at how late she had slept in but felt incredibly rested 

" Good morning, " Mrs. Potts greeted her as Belle stepped out of bed. She wheeled in on a cart with food. Chip was also on the cart and the footstool bounded into the room as well.

" Mon Doudou! Mon petite chou!" Madam de la Grande Bouche exclaimed as the footstool circled her for attention. It appeared to be routine to Belle.

"Slept well, I take it?" Mrs. Potts asked.

" Yes," Belle yawned. " I was up reading some more. Now that I'm older Romeo and Juliet is even more fascinating."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you see if Lady Capulet wouldn't have pressured Juliet to marry Paris so young, only thirteen mind you, then none of the tragedy would have happened. If the two lovers had only been able to communicate clearly, none of the heartache would have happened."

Mrs. Potts and the Madame laughed quietly looking at one another.

"What's so funny Mama?" Chip squeaked curiously. Belle also wondered why they had laughed as well. She wanted to say more about her book, but their inside joke discouraged her a bit.

" Oh, never you mind, little one," Mrs. Potts remarked to Chip. " I'll tell you when you're older."

" You alwaaaays say that," Chip groaned rolling his eyes. Belle stood up out of bed into her silk slippers wondering if the magical items actually aged at all. 

"I'm not sure I understand either," Belle asked.

"Oh, it's just that castle life can lead to many misunderstandings. Or something along those lines- that's all love," Mrs. Potts said. 

Belle shrugging at Mrs. Potts riddled words moved to the garderobe and then washed her hands and face behind the lacquer screen. It appeared that clean garderobe and wash bowl towels had been changed throughout the day.

" Have some breakfast dear," Mrs. Potts called out to Belle. She poured hot tea into Chip on the low table which was filled with a serving tier covered with rich food. Belle had heard of the rich man's disease of gout and now understood how one may develop it.

" Please no cream or sugar," Belle called out. "I fear it will make me lose my vigor."

"Don't worry mon cherie," Madam de la Grande Bouche remarked " you are nothing but skin and bones. Ribs poking through. We'll fill you out some and soften those arms." 

Belle scoffed. She didn't mind her ribs or her arm muscles but looking at the plump royal women in the portraits in her room, she understood the magical items thoughts; fat equals wealth. Her toned arms showed heavy farm work.

"Well-" Belle retorted eating a piece of toast with egg- "I don't wish to become a sloven pig." 

" I'm sure your mother would agree that some weight would do you good," Mrs. Potts chuckled.

"Well, I'm not sure," Belle sighed. She gingerly picked up Chip and took a sip of tea. "My mother passed away long ago."

"Oh, mon cherie!" Madam de la Grande Bouche gasped with pity.

" I'm sorry, love," Mrs. Potts apologized. "I meant no offense."

"It's alright. I 'm used to it being just me & Papa," Belle remarked. 

"But what about your brothers or sisters?" Chip asked innocently. Belle shook her head and set him down.

"No one else to look after you love?" Mrs. Potts asked cautiously.

"Well, my sisters used to but that was long ago," Belle stated flatly. "Scarlet fever took them both when I was seven." Belle had that statement memorized when she had introduced herself to the villagers years ago. The statement held no emotion to her anymore.

"Oh I see," Mrs. Potts nodded. "Right, well, I wanted to check if you wished to bath today, dearie."

"No, I see no need," Belle replied, since she had only sat reading the entire day before. 

"Well then I'll send the girls up to tend to your skin then" Mrs. Potts stated. "Chip, I'll see you when you're finished." She hopped away and left the little teacup with the breakfast tiers. Belle took another sip of tea from him. 

"Belle, you don't have a Mama or any brothers or sisters?" Chip asked.

"No," she replied setting him down. 

"I can't imagine not having brothers or sisters! I have sooo many, but they are older than me and they're always busy helping Mama out with chores."

"Really?"

"The castle serving assistants are often young orphans," the Madame remarked. "They are like big family and they are often promoted to other servant positions as they grow."

" But my Mama IS my real Mama," Chip complained. "Well my Mum died when I was a baby and my grandma became my Mama,"

"Oh I see," Belle nodded.

"Chip, you must be quiet," Madame de la Grand Bouche hushed. "Mademoiselle Belle needs to eat."

Belle remembered Madame freezing the night before and thought if the teacup revealed too much, he might freeze too. Belle tried to steer the thoughts of the childlike teacup. Belle finished her tea and set Chip down. She continued to eat items off the breakfast tiers. 

"It's alright Madame," Belle remarked. She leaned over to Chip- "What is your favorite thing to do around the castle?" 

"Well...it's a secret," Chip whispered loudly. Belle leaned in and put her hand to her ear. 

" Sliding down the banister on the grand stairs is my faaavorite," Chip whispered.

"Oh really?" Belle whispered back.

"Yeah! Mama won't let us, but I do it anyways." 

"I think your Mother maybe right though," Belle stated sitting back up.

"We don't want you to chip any further," Belle booped his handle and he giggled. 

_'Chip acts and sounds just like a child even though he is a teacup,'_ Belle observed. _'How would a teacup child even come into existence?'_

"Do you like anything else?" Belle asked as she ate keeping the teacup child's attention. "Any games? Checkers? Chess? Stories?"

"Well," Chip thought out loud, "Mr. Cogsworth tried to teach me chess but it was boooring! But I Iike to go sliding or play hide and seek."

"Chip!" the Madame scolded. "You are not supposed to slid down the banisters! You'll crack yourself in half!"

"I agree but I think hide and seek is a fun game," Belle nodded in agreement to the Madame. " I'll ask your mother if we can play when you have a moment."

"You don't need to trouble yourself Mademoiselle!" the armoire said. 

Belle knew how boring and lonely life could be for as a child. She didn't want this magic teacup child cracking in half from his unsupervised childish games.

"It's alright. I think Chip needs a little supervision with Mrs. Potts and the rest being so busy."

"Yay!" Chip hopped up wiggling his base in the air. "Let's play now!"

A knock sounded at the door and the twin feather dusters entered the room with a small cart. 

"Mademoiselle, Madame," they greeted in unison.

" Bonjour, Fifi. Bonjour, Plumette," Belle replied. "I'm sorry, Chip, but not right now. I'll ask your mother if we can play hide and seek later. I apparently need my face tended to."

"Okay," Chip smiled his grin with a small gap between his two painted front teeth. He bounced out of the door. "Oh boy oh boy! Bye!"

" Mademoiselle, for your toilette, please lay on the chaise," a twin instructed her. Belle sat there and a silk scarf wrapped around her hairline. She laid back and a brush and bowl started to paint her face with a paste. It smelled of honey, rose and lemon again. She closed her eyes to prevent the goop from entering her eyes. The feather dusters nudged her hands into warm oil filled bowls. The Madame began to snore once again.

 _'I wonder what sort of magic folk Fifi and Plumette are? Sure they are twins, but even twins have different personalities,’_ Belle wondered. _'Mrs. Potts acts like a grandmotherly housekeeper and Madame de la Grande Bouche acts like a wealthy woman of the world. Cogsworth fills his role as the head of household perfectly and Lumiere seems to be a charming gentleman in his Matrie'D role. And Chip is most definitely a child. I wonder...'_ Belle felt her slippers removed and the scratching of the stone pen on her toenails and bottoms of her feet. 

" Fifi?" Belle called with her eyes still closed. 

" Oui Mademoiselle?"

" I have a question if you can answer it. What do you like to do during your leisure time?"

" Um, well..." Fifi started sounding unsure.

"Well there is not much leisure time for us with our duties," Plumette finished.

"And it is like we can go anywhere anyhow," Fifi agreed disappointingly.

" Well, where would you go if you had the leisure time and could go anywhere?" Belle asked. 

"Aha!" A twin sounded "I would love to go to a dance." Belle thought it may be Plumette. Her voice sounded smoother.

"Oui," the other twin chimed in. "With suitors and cards and champagne!"

"And maybe even Lumiere," the other twin giggled. 

"Non. I have already claimed dibs on him!"

"Ha! He gave me the bracelet," the other twin teased.

"Tctsh. He gave me the hair comb!"

"That was years ago."

 _'Do they really have the same affections toward Lumiere? A candlestick? To each their own, I suppose,'_ Belle rolled her eyes even though they were closed. She was beginning to regret her experiment to identify the twins.

"Surely there is someone for the both of you individually," Belle remarked

"No, Lumiere shall be mine alone," a twin stated. 

"Oh, you couldn't possibly satisfy an experienced lover as he," the other twin retorted.

"That is not the point," the twin argued. "He is to satisfy me. A man of his experience knows how to keep a lady."

"His experience?" Belle asked out loud. She regretted her curiosity instantly.

"Oui," a twin said with a sultry tone. "Lumiere is a renown lover even now."

"Once he...oof" the other twin was cut off

"No do not say!"

"Oh right," the other twin chuckled. "It is...not right to gossip like so in front of Mademoiselle.

"Yes, yes. We apologize."

"Do you wish to tell me but can't because of the magic?" Belle asked curiously.

"Oh how did you..." one of the twins gasped.

"It happened to Madame last night," Belle replied. "Don't worry. No more questions. I don't wish to cause you any pain."

"Oh, thank you for thinking of us but it is not painful Mademoiselle, just, erm, uncomfortable," a twin remarked.

"Like being stiff with a yawn you cannot stop," the other agreed.

" Yes. Please sit up, Mademoiselle," a twin asked Belle. Belle sat up and a damp cloth moved along her feet. Her feet were put into a bowl of oil and her hands were now being dried and filed with the stone pen. A damp cloth wiped the paste off her face, and a fresh cloth smelling of a peppermint like spirits dabbed at her face. The bowl moved away from under Belle's feet as a cloth dried them off. Belle opened her eyes to see her slippers slid onto her feet and the scarf was undone from her hairline.

" Well, you are all set Mademoiselle," a twin said.

"Oui, are you certain you would not like us to fix your hair or your powder?"

"We can help you dress?"

"No thank you," Belle replied. "Simplicity suits me best." she explained again.

"D'accord," a twin sighed. "As you wish."

"Au revoir, Mademoiselle," the twins bowed. The doors opened and Madame de la Grande Bouche stirred awake. Sultan the footstool near her also moved about stretching downward from what seemed to be a nap.

" Oh, excuze moi!" the Madame yawned as the doors closed. "It seemed I needed more beauty sleep. Oh, you're still in your morning dressing robe then? Bon. Let us get your measurements shall we then, for your new attire? " 

Madame de la Grande Bouche opened her doors and a shelf. A measuring ribbon flew out as well as a small booklet and piece of graphite. 

"Feet together and arms out like a T please," the Madame instructed. "Stand up very tall." 

Belle did so as the measuring ribbon twirled around her. From wrist to shoulders, neck to collarbones, underbust to belly, legs and all the lengths in between. The ribbon even measured her head in several ways and the Madame scribbled dozens of times in the small pocketbook pages. It seemed to go for some time. Madame de la Grande Bouche put the ribbon away and Belle got dressed in her blue familiar gown.

The Madame seemed to have dozed off again. Belle wondered if the armoire had a sleeping condition of sorts. She seemed to slip into sleep when not engaged in conversation. Belle stood by the window noticing that the snow was falling again. She looked out and saw the fluffy flakes covering the surrounding wooded mountains. 

_'I'll need to turn out Philippe before the snow grows too deep and he cramps up,'_ she thought. _'Maybe I can ask for a pair of high boots so the snow isn't so cold.'_

"Hello, dearie," Mrs. Potts entered on a serving cart with lunch. Belle moved to the fireplace alcove to sit down as the lunch moved onto the low table. A different cup was on the cart as well. 

" This is Bert, dearest," Mrs. Potts said as she poured a delicate tea into the teacup. 

" Hello, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle," the teacup moved to Belle. He didn't seem as fidgety as Chip and sounded a tad older; maybe ten or so. 

"Pleased to meet you as well, Bert," Belle said as she reached for his golden nose-like handle. Sipping the tea, it tasted light and far more floral with chamomile. She nibbled on some small triangle sandwiches which were light but wholesome. 

" Mrs. Potts," Belle began. "I was wondering if you may know of any high winter boots that I may borrow, to walk Philippe in the snow later."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something for you, dearie," Mrs. Potts replied. 

"I would greatly appreciate it," Belle nodded. "It also seems that Chip is a bit of a mischievous one."

" A troublemaker you mean," Bert rolled his eyes. Mrs. Potts shushed him. 

_' Definitely siblings,'_ Belle noted.

" I would like to play some hide and seek with him while he's not performing his duties to keep him off the banister, if that seems acceptable to you," Belle suggested. 

" Oh dearest, that would be a big help." Mrs. Potts gasped. "Thank you. I'm off to it, then. Bert, return when you're finished." 

Belle felt some relief that Mrs. Potts agreed. Even though the village children seemed to flock to her, their parents scolded them for having their heads filled with nonsense stories. Belle couldn't imagine ever wanting the responsibility of raising a child but enjoyed their company. They were filled with wonder and curiosity, always asking questions. Belle was ready to answer and stoke their curiosity further. 

" Yes, mam," the teacup replied as Mrs. Potts left the room. " Thank you Miss! Now we won't get stuck watching Chip."

"You and your siblings have babysitting duties huh?" Belle asked. 

"Yes Miss, and he's so reckless," Bert huffed. "We can't scoop him up and hold him still. He could break from a fall."

"It sounds like you have a lot of responsibilities then," Belle nodded understanding the amount of energy a child could have.

"Yes, well, we didn't mind before, but now it's really hard. Sorry for complaining out of turn. Please drink up Miss."

Belle took another sip of chamomile as she ate what seemed to be a light carrot tart. 

_' It seems the magic teacups are childlike,'_ Belle noted. _'And they seem to be struggling with whatever spell is going on. Ugh. I do hate seeing unhappy children.'_

"Is there anything your brothers and sisters like to do when you have free time?" Belle asked.

"Well," Bert thought, "we used to play pretend stories but that is hard to do now."

"I see, I enjoy reading stories too," Belle remarked.

"I like Puss in Boots and also pirate stories," Bert seemed to smile. "The girls like Cinderella."

 _'Pity,'_ Belle sighed to herself eating a fruit pastry. _'I don't think most older children will like reading Romeo and Juliet. And I don't have Arabian nights. I suppose I can choose some biblical tales?'_

" I don't think I have any of those stories," Belle told Bert. "But I do have a few about a man who had an amazing coat and his dreams helped save the kingdom. And also, a giant whale who swallowed a man up whole!" Bert's painted brown eyes seemed to sparkle as the teacup smiled. "Maybe I can look after Chip and then I can read to all of you sometime?

"Yes Miss, that would be nice" Bert agreed. Belle finished her chamomile tea and Bert nodded leaving the room.

Belle gathered up the Bible from under the porcelain pastoral figures on the vanity and sat on the bed. It was not her favorite book as she found she was not as devout in her faith as the conservative villagers but she still appreciated some of the lessons and stories.

 _'Jonah and the whale, Joseph and his coat of many colors, Daniel and the Lion's den, Noah's ark.... what else,'_ Belle thumbed through the familiar book looking for good relatable tales for the teacup children. It took Belle a better part of the afternoon. Once she had selected ten lessons, she closed the book putting in back on the vanity. She didn't wish to read the lessons she often found contradicting themselves with animal sacrifice, multiple wives, incest, and more. She preferred the New Testament but even so, the biblical word seemed self-righteous to her. Then again, maybe it was the villagers who seemed hypocritical in their own ways as they swore that they lived by the word. 

With the Madame snoring in the corner, Belle wondered if the boots for the snow would ever be found. Belle thought about reading Romeo and Juliet again but reading the same story for the fifth time in the same time in the same room seemed excessive. The Madame's snores appeared to be growing louder. Huffing, Belle realized she was growing restless. 

_' Well, there are other rooms within that antechamber, and that would not be wandering unsafely through the castle halls. I don't think I'll run into Him.'_

Belle slipped off her silk slippers and put her thin stocking covered feet into her dark leather flats. Opening the antechamber door that blended with the wall, Belle observed her reflections in the mirror and the four other doors again. She opened the door to the right that lead to the tiled bathing chamber. Entering without the steam she saw just how the intricate tiles had been decorated to imitate a woodland river scene with leaves, trees, birds dear and fish jumping out of water. A panel of small round windows ran along a wall. 

She also noticed two roman faucets along another wall. She turned them and stood up. After a few moments cold water flowed out into a bucket. It was amazing. Shutting the faucet valves off Belle exited the room and decided to try another door. The opposite left door opened to a spiraling stairwell with plain plaster walls. It was somewhat dark.

 _'I wonder where this leads?'_ Belle thought. _'Well, the creature did say I am free to go anywhere. And obviously the meal rule is relaxed. And Lumiere said he is sulking in his room so I shouldn't run into him.'_

Going back into the bedchamber, she fetched a candle stick and lit its candle with the fireplace.

Belle traveled down the dim plain spiral staircase. It seemed to continue down three flights as it led to a narrow dark corridor she could barely squeeze through. She followed the corridor and opened a door as it connected to another larger dark corridor with many worn out wooden doors lining the walls. The floors were a musty wood and the walls plain whitewashed. 

Belle continued on slowly and she heard voices chattering and smelled roasting meats, breads and pastries. Going down a creaking wooden stairwell, it led to a larger corridor with a brightly lit room ahead and swinging doors. 

_'A kitchen?'_ Belle wondered as she pushed on the bronze rolling pin door handles entering a bustling cooking area. Dishes were washing themselves. A rolling pin was rolling out dough on a granite countertop. A professional baking stove with several flaming iron tops had pots boiling with spoons and whisks stirring foam. 

" Oh! Stop your griping," Belle heard Mrs. Potts scolding. "It's been a long few days for all of us."

" Yes, but after all, the Master did say please," Cogsworth retorted. 

Turning around a corner, Belle saw the teapot, clock and candelabra on top of a table as gleaming silver cutlery hopped by for inspection. 

" Well, if the Master doesn't learn how to control that temper," Mrs. Potts retorted "we'll never break that-"

" Splendid to see you out Mademoiselle!" Cogsworth jumped up seeing Belle peer around the corner. He chimed as his clock hands turned to four o' clock, and shook himself making the clock hands settle to a mustache shape over his mouth.

" How can we assist you Mademoiselle?" Lumiere grinned.

" Well, I was having a look around and I found a door," Belle explained. "I hope it's not a bother."

"Not at all! You are our guest. We must make you feel welcome here." Lumiere exclaimed, jumping off the table. "In fact we would love to treat you to a special welcome feast Mademoiselle! Right this was Mademoiselle," Lumiere suggested, leading Belle out of the kitchen. "Everyone!" He addressed the room behind him. "Tout de suite! It is time." Cogsworth groaned following behind. 

" Alright," Cogsworth sighed. "But keep it down."

"Of course! of course," Lumiere said to the exasperated clock, "but how can one entertain without a little music?"

Cogsworth stood still and the swinging door swung into him. He flew backward sliding along the floor.

 **" Music?!"** he shrieked.

" Ho ho!" Lumiere chuckled hopping along in front of Belle to lead her further. "Do not worry, Mademoiselle. Cogsworth is just very, how can one say, wound up too tight. Right this way."

The hallway appeared to be more ornate than the staircase she took to the kitchens as the flourished plaster and marble decor began again. Belle guessed that she had taken a passageway for servants and saw their servant quarters. The corridor widened at an overhead arch and several closed doors lined each side.

 _'I was right,'_ Belle thought, looking at the paintings and treasures displayed on the pedestals. _'The castle is far less gruesome in the daylight.'_

The corridor veered right, and Belle saw large stately tall double doors to the left. The doors swung open revealing a darkened emerald room with curtains closed. Before her a long wooden table sat in the center of the room with a single shaft of light streaming down the center of the table. 

_' Those two were arguing about an appetizer parade,'_ Belle remembered. _'What in the world do they have planned?'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think the timeline is getting confusing but I'm not sure since I'm the one writing it and it makes perfect sense in my mind. Just to clarify, the Beast slept through Belle's first day at the castle the last two chapters. This chapter is Belle's second day at the castle.


	13. Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is treated to a magnificent musical welcome feast. Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Act II is also sprinkled in.

Belle stood in the huge dining hall decorated in rich emerald colors. Glancing above the long tigerwood dining table, she saw a shaft of light shining downward. A partially opened curtain had streaming sunlight redirected by small mirrors to the center of the table. Lumiere caught Belle's attention by hopping onto the table into the bright light and the light suddenly turned a warm yellow tone. Belle looked upwards out of curiosity and saw a feather duster floating near the curtain with a piece of yellow glass. 

Lumiere twirled the top of a candle snuffer using one arm and twirled the separated snuff handle in the other arm like a cane.

"Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight," Lumiere announced.

Belle felt a tap at her foot and noticed a tall wooden chair now was behind her. Belle sat down as Lumiere continued his announcement.

"Now, we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair, as the dining room proudly presents your dinner."

A tablecloth soared overhead and spread along the table. Lumiere dashed towards Belle and the spotlight continued to follow his path. He somersaulted in the air as the tablecloth tucked under his somersault, smoothing out underneath him. Another shaft of light shone on the opposite of the side of the long table. Several silver domed serving platters hopped off rolling carts into the light on the table. Belle smiled, surprised at the coordinated acrobatics of the magic folk. 

**_"Be..."_** Lumiere began to sing in low tenor and hopped backwards.

**_"Our...Guest!"_ **

A harpsichord played from somewhere in the darkness of the room and the serving platters moved in time to the bouncy tune towards her.

 ** _"Be our guest, put our service to the test,"_** Lumiere sang. 

**_"Tie a napkin round your neck cherie and we'll provide the rest."_ **

A napkin appeared on the table and tried to tie around Belle's neck in a gentleman's manner, but Belle moved the napkin properly across her lap.

The domed serving platters stopped in the center of the table and began to sway in time with the tune as well. A faceless porcelain soup tureen bobbed in front of Belle along with a shallow soup plate and silver spoon. A creamy soup ladled into the bowl and Belle sipped it, watching the performance continue. More musical strings and brass instruments joined the harpsichord's jolly tune. Lumiere continued with his tenor singing, swaying with a small serving dome in his hands.

**_"Soup du jour! Hot horse d'oeuvres._ **

**_Why we only live to serve!"_ **

He tossed up the serving dome that landed in front of Belle. The dome top flew away leaving a plate with a selection of several various grey pate and creamy appetizers.

**_"Try the grey stuff it's delicious!_ **

**_Don't believe me ask the dishes!"_ **

A swarm of dishes suddenly appeared spinning midair landing along the table as the lighting changed to blue and pink colors. They sang in female voices with a background melody. 

**_"They can sing! They can dance!_ **

**_After all, miss, this is France,_ **

**_And a dinner here is never second best!"_ **

Lumiere bobbed up to Belle with a menu placing it open and standing it upright. Belle scanned the listing of the evening's soups, appetizers, vegetables, fish dishes, meats and desserts. She could hardly believe the amount of food planned just for her as it could feed her entire village.

**_"Go on, unfold your menu._ **

**_Take a glance and then you'll_ **

**_Be our guest oui, our guest_ **

**_Be our guest!"_ **

A line of silver footed serving dishes release steam in time to the music as they paraded in front of Belle. She watched as their lids open revealing their delicious contents and Lumiere and the choir voices sang.

**_"Beef ragout, cheese soufflé_ **

**_Pie and pudding, en flambé"_ **

Belle gasped as a dish caught a flame and then quickly snuffed out. It appeared as if Cogsworth had found his way on the table and fell singed into the pudding. The serving dish waddled away quickly. Lumiere and pink lights drew Belle's attention to the center of the table where a large silver punch bowl sat. Gleaming silver spoons swayed back and forth to the musical rhythm rotating on the edge of the bowl. 

**_"We'll prepare and serve with flair_ **

**_A culinary cabaret!_ **

**_You're alone and you're scared,_ **

**_But the banquet's all prepared_ **

**_No one's gloomy or complaining_ **

**_While the flatware's entertaining_ **

**_We tell jokes, I do tricks_ **

**_With my fellow candlesticks"_ **

The spoons jumped spinning one by one into the bowl splashing pink wine. Lumiere jumped onto a levitating spinning plate and it moved to the center of the bowl. A jet of wine shot upwards like a water fountain lifting the singing Lumiere and the plate high above. Belle craned her neck to see if they had hit the chandelier, but a long line of beer steins bounced towards Belle. They sang in a heavy German accent and blocked her view.

**_"Und it's all in perfect taste that you can bet!"_ **

Several butter knives appeared on the table resting atop of saltshakers. They acted as seesaws as then the singing steins leapt from one utensil seesaw to the other, one after the other.

**_"Come on and lift your glass_ **

**_You've won your own free pass_ **

**_To be our guest_ **

**_If you're stressed_ **

**_It's fine dining we suggest"_ **

The steins formed a pyramid and seemed to sing out with the dishes.

**_"Be our guest!_ **

**_Be our guest!_ **

**_Be our guest!"_ **

Lumiere leapt and landed in front of them, posing arms wide open.

"Ma chere Mademoiselle, we sincerely hope that our dinner presentation delighted and entertained you," Lumiere announced as the steins and plates cleared away, including Belle's half-finished soup. The appetizer plate moved closer to Belle as she grabbed a piece of a gray pate toasted cracker and it scurried away with the rest. A plate landed in front of Belle with a small fork. Two columns of silver serving dishes lined themselves along the long edges of the table leaving the middle wide open. A serving dish on her left and one on her right moved closer to her. A pair of tongs levitated and served asparagus onto her plate as well as some creamy vegetables from the other dish. They floated away into the shadows as Belle continued to listen to Lumiere.

"Now, please, enjoy the remainder of your dinner as we may indulge your attention with the un petite ballet de la sweets. Presenting ze Chocolates of Spain!"

Horns and brass instruments sounded with an upbeat Spanish melody as the light grew a warm yellow and red. Silver trimmed dishes spun with sliding and weaving between each other in three quarter time. Lace ladies fans of red and black levitated opening and closing to the tune of the music. The dishes had various chocolate cookies and colorful chocolate bon bons. As cassonets added to the rhythm of the music glass bowls of a fluffy chocolate concoction twirled dragging away from the silver plates movements. 

Belle tried to eat her vegetables, but the lively music and constant weaving of silver lines was mesmerizing. Eventually, the chocolate dishes ended their dance, aligning themselves on the far opposite side of the long table. The fans spun open to pose in between them. The two columns of silver serving dishes moved down towards Belle and the next two dishes opened scooping their contents onto her plate.

" Bon bon!" Lumiere hopped into the center. "Now for the enticing Arabian coffee!" 

The next song started slowly with what sounded like a low chalumeau and the lighting changed to purple and blue. Streams of colorful thin veil like fabric scarves began waving down from the ceiling and the string instruments began to play. Then the strong scent of coffee and spices reached Belle's nose. A copper colored grinder and shiny long handled spouted copper pot weaved between one another. Four small copper spoons balanced and spun on the spouted pot weaving and moving the fresh coffee grounds from the grinder to the spouted pot. A bronze ornate lamp like apparatus with a single flame spun onto the table. Three prongs protruded from the apparatus above the flame and the copper pot danced around it. Another steaming copper pot seemed to chase the other in a slow dance until they met at the top of the flame and prongs and the steaming copper pot emptied hot water into the copper coffee ground pot. The flaming apparatus then spun while balancing the coffee filled copper pot as it spun balancing the in opposite direction. The music quieted to an end and the balancing apparatus moved backwards in line with the chocolate dishes. 

" Such wonderful balance no?" Lumiere hopped onto the table in front of Belle. The lights changed to a yellow glow as her plate was cleared away. The serving dishes on each side of her moved away to make room for the next dishes in the column. A new plate appeared as did a new trident like fork. Levitating serving tongs served two fish-based dishes onto Belle's plate and a glass of white wine poured itself.

"Now, let us delight you with more excitement!" Lumiere announced. "Russian pastila!"

The instrumental strings sounded boldly with an invigorating Slavic melody as the lighting changed to a red and yellow hue again. Six silver bowls with domes barreled down the table to the center. They crisscrossed, exchanging their lids and continued to leap over one another in a circle. Their sugary contents of apple and various berry flavored fluffy pastila were tossed into the air as the silver dishes leapt, but none of the sweets were dropped. The musical pace sounded like a repetitive gallop as the dishes and desserts continued their high jumps. With a final whirl, the six pastila bowls landed in line with the coffee and chocolates.

Belle's plate shifted again and the last two dinner serving dishes revealed their forest meat contents of a boar and venison dish. A slice of each was carved and left on Belle's plate. A glass of red wine was poured as what was left of the white wine scurried away. 

" Magnifique! No?" Lumiere appeared. "Now for our final dessert, ze promenade of marzipan."

The harpsichord started a slow dancing melody with quiet instrumental strings. A single large silver domed serving dish appeared under pink and purple lights on the table. It twirled to the song's introduction, weaving back and forth as a single spotlight shone from above. The bouncing melody took on its full tune with the sharp ping of a triangle and the dome lid flew away revealing the contents of the serving dish; tall pyramid of pastel flowers and realistic figurines of women in ankle length and sleeved ballet costumes. Belle smelled the pungent almond aroma and realized the flowers and ballet dancers were sculpted from marzipan. As the serving dish rotated, the flowers began to open and close in time with the music. The marzipan ballerinas moved their gracefully arched arms open to a T and then above their heads in an O. They swayed their arms along their fixed skirts and continued to pose and move their heads to match the rhythm. It was like a rotating ballet automation made of food. Belle couldn't even dream up such magic in her sleep.

 _'Dancing marzipan_ ,' Belle grinned. She didn't even touch her meat dish as she watched the moving candy pieces in front of her. The meat plate and red wine moved away from her as the unlit background desserts moved closer to the marzipan pyramid. The marzipan creations eventually stopped moving in a pose with all the flowers open the dancers’ arms in a V shape. The lights went out and the room was plunged into darkness. 

Two long rows with dozens of candlesticks flared. They bent into the center of the row, reminding Belle of two rows of royal guards with their swords held aloft. They peeled away as the tune of the first song Lumiere had sung began again. All of the string and brass instruments played and Belle could hear Lumiere's voice with the rest of the magical choir.

**_"Course by course!"_ **

The lights brightened on the table as the desserts all moved closer to Belle. A large plume of golden edible luster puffed a sparkling cloud on to them.

**_"One by one!"_ **

A fully lit crystal chandelier descended the ceiling as the desserts and candles swayed with Lumiere.

**_"Till you shout enough I'm done,_ **

**_And we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest!"_ **

Gleaming silver forks and spoons now joined the ensemble somersaulting between them. Cogsworth even swayed stiffly in the background on a serving cart wearing a small tri-cornered feathered hat.

**_"Tonight you'll prop your feet up_ **

**_But for now, let's eat up_ **

**_Be our guest!"_ **

Belle couldn't believe her eyes as flower petals and the silk scarves fell from the ceiling. 

**_"Be our guest!_ **

**_"Be our guest!"_ **

With a loud pop six champagne bottles popped their corks spraying like pink fountains into champagne glasses. The magical folk's music sounded out to a full final crescendo holding their notes.

**_"Please, be our gueeeeeest!"_ **

"Bravo! Bravo!" Belle stood up from her seat grinning and clapping loudly at the final pose. The magical items gave a short bow. It was the most spectacular colorful performance Belle had even seen nor dared to imagine. 

" Grazie Mille bella" Belle heard a male voice shout from the corner. She noted it came from the flourished harpsichord as it waddled out with the several instruments propped up on its top and bouncing after him. 

"That was wonderful!" Belle exclaimed sitting back down as a plate of the various desserts, a silver cup of coffee and a glass of champagne arranged before her. Lumiere and Cogsworth walked along the table toward her.

"Thank you," Cogsworth remarked. "Thank you, Mademoiselle. Yes, good show, wasn't it" he nodded to the staff as they cleared themselves away to the kitchen. Belle sipped her bold spiced coffee and had a chocolate.

Cogsworth's face chimed, making him shake his hat off. The chime revealed for a moment it was 4:45 in the evening and Cogsworth shook himself until the clock arms fell back into a mustache arrangement.

"Why look at the time!" Cogsworth gasped. "It's nearly nightfall. Mademoiselle, I would highly suggest retiring soon for the evening."

"Oh but I didn't walk Philippe," Belle chewed on a marzipan flower. "Well, it is growing dark. It would be difficult to walk the grounds now, I'll need to be ready to do so tomorrow." 

She swallowed the marzipan and washed it down with a sip of champagne. 

"I can hardly stay in my room, though. This is my first enchanted castle placed under a magic spell."

" A spell?" Cogsworth sputtered. He chuckled nervously glancing at Lumiere. "Enchanted? Who ever said anything about the castle being enchanted." 

Lumiere smiled, shaking his head in agreement. The mantle clock barreled into him.

"It was you wasn't it!!!" Cogsworth grimaced trying to whisper. Lumiere shoved him off, but the clock went after the candelabra's waxy nose. Lumiere's candle nose began to stretch far away from his face like taffy and Lumiere throttled Cogsworth.

"I...." Belle started confused but amazed at magic objects fighting. "I figured it out myself." Cogsworth immediately let go and Lumiere's nose rebounded right back onto his face.

"I would like a look around," Belle stood up curious of the other treasures of the castle "if that's alright..."

"Oh!" Lumiere shouted for joy. "Would you like a tour?"

"Wait a second, wait a second," Cogsworth stammered. "I'm not sure that's such a good...erm...good idea." He leaned into Lumiere trying to whisper but failed. 

"We can't let her go poking around in certain places, if you know what I mean."

 _'Oh, this one is a know it all fellow,'_ Belle raised her eyebrow noted of Cogsworth's personality.

"Perhaps you'd like to take me? " Belle asked. She leaned over the table and rested her chin on her hand. "I'm sure you know everything there is to know about the castle. "

"Well ..." Cogsworth chuckled flattered at her compliment. "- actually, I ... yes, I do."

"Well then, right this way Mademoiselle," Lumiere smiled, hopping off the table. 

"Waaait!!! LUMIERE!" Cogsworth shrieked scurrying out of the dining hall.

" What in the world?" Belle asked, confused by the frantic outburst.

"Mon Dieu," groaned Lumiere. They could hear the tapping of Cogsworth's brass feet returning on the tiles. He came in through the entrance with a hallow metal cone and a small pointer.

" I'll need my speaking trumpet..." Cogsworth panted. "Come along let's not dilly dally! We have a lot of history to cover and we are starting two days too late. Hehehhm." 

" Mademoiselle, I fear you may have unleashed a monster..." Lumiere groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Over 1K hits? I'm so flattered!
> 
> I added elements of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Ballet Act II to Be Our Guest. As a kid learning ballet, 'Be our Guest' reminded me of the learning the dances in class and watching them performed by the teenage classes during rehearsals. So that is pure crossover wish fulfillment.  
> For those unfamiliar with 'the Nutcracker', in Act II Clara is transported to a magical world where the Court of Sweets dance for her. So I added for Belle a similar situation with the 'Spanish Chocolate' dance', the 'Arabian Coffee' dance, the 'Russian Candy Canes' were altered to a eastern European European pastila dish and then the 'Waltz of the Flowers' were changed from flowers to marzipan peices which is a relatively easy candy to sculpt with.  
> If you want to see the original dances, I suggest watching George Balanchine's The Nutcracker on Amazon ( I know they are evil but Aaaart!!!) which is the version most performed in the US and the video I watched as a kid. The Baryshnikov version is also available free on Amazon Prime but it is much more dated with the editing and the holiday magic is lost with the aged film color.  
> Eating fresh homemade marzipan with sweet almond sparkling wine is also a treat I encourage you to try. I also highly suggest trying your own version of Turkish or Bosnian coffee via youtube tutorials. Cloves, cardamon and saffron add a wonderful touch to fresh roasted blends😊 #foodie


	14. Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cogsworth castle tour of lame puns and Belle finds herself alone in a dark mysterious wing of the castle.

The scent of spiced venison and honey roasted boar-ham wafted into the Beast's chambers. The prospect of food urged his appetite, pulling him from sleep. On the thread worn velvet chaise, he stretched out from being curled up in a sleeping ball. The navy blue dressing robe that was wrapped tight around him had wicked away the dampness of his clean carmel golden fur. 

_'Is it morning... or evening?'_ the Beast wondered, sitting up confused by the dim blue daylight. 

Stretching his bulky arms overhead, he stood up and took off his robe. He replaced it with black breeches that hung on a rack next to the toilette chamber door. He assumed a servant must have opened the toilette door and placed them within the room while he was bathing. The Beast only wore them for the sake of propriety, not dressing into a shirt, vest, jacket, or even shoes. That would require the help of a valet and he would not allow anyone else into his private domain. One wrong move and they might be splintered or shattered ending their twisted existence. Even though the breeches were made extremely long and loose by some cursed castle tailor, they still felt constricting with his bulky canine like quads and swishing tail. The seams were stretched from his random outdoor runs and the fabric weather worn. 

Once he might have felt naked with such little attire. None of his overcoats or shirts fit him. Even in the unlikely event he might try to wear them, his previous attempts left the sleeves torn off. Lumiere had suggested several times to have the tailor measure him again, but the Beast would not have anyone touch him more than necessary.

 _'Clothing be damned.'_ the Beast had always reasoned. _'It's stupid trying to dress a monster anyways.'_

It seemed silly to even wear a red thick cloak today, but covering his shoulders with something felt a little more normal. 

The Beast walked across the room to retrieve the delicious smelling meal left outside his chamber doors by the servants. Although his cursed body enjoyed the taste of fresh bloody meat when extremely hungry, a cooked meal tasted far superior. He opened a door and stooped to grab the large domed silver serving tray with two hands. The far off noise of music and singing echoed down the hall. It seemed that the staff was practicing their welcome feast routine again. Grumbling in irritation he closed the door. 

_'Why the hell are they even trying?'_ he rolled his eyes. _'It's a waste of time.'_

The clean air of the corridor had blown in and now the Beast noticed how stale his bedchambers smelled. He moved to open the balcony doors and stood outside in the crisp cold air. Under the tiled awning, he balanced the large silver plate on the wide stone bannister. Picking from the pile of soft meats piece by piece, the cold wind ruffled his long honey brown mane. He hardly noticed it's chill. Large snowflakes fell beyond the balcony and a wall of white snowfall seemed to draw closer on the horizon. The clouds raced along the sky and rolled over the hills and mountains of the distance. The echoing sound of the mountain winds deafened his ears and the creaking of pine timbers groaned together. 

_'It's been a while since I've seen a snow storm this strong,'_ he mused. _'At least I'm indoors. Not roaming those mountain woods. It will be treacherous tonight.'_

* * *

Cogsworth stood as tall as any one foot magic mantle clock man could. With a small metal pointer in one golden brassy hand and a hollow cone ( _or as he called it; a speaking trumpet)_ in the other, Cogsworth began to explain the history of the castle to Belle. 

"We are fortunate to begin our tour in one of the original rooms of the original castle; the Great Hall. Lumiere, more light if you will?" Cogsworth asked, turning to the candelabra man standing next to him on the floor.

"But of course," Lumiere jumped onto the long dining table and stretched his arms high above his candelabra body. A dozen crystal embellished candle sconces brightened up the room along the walls. Several crystal chandeliers sparkled above with a large central chandelier glimmering over the dining table. The room shone it's full brilliance of flourished designs with lush green patterned walls trimmed with golden painted embellishments. The closed velvet curtains that hid the tall windows were also an emerald green hue. 

"That's amazing!" Belle gasped. Lumiere brushed his candelabra arms like brushing dust off a jacket sleeves.

"It is nothing ma chere," Lumiere smiled. "I control most of ze candlelight and fireplaces on the castle grounds."

"Most?"

"Well-" Lumiere twirled his candles like hands- "once a flame has intentionally been put out by another, it is impossible to relight it without being inside the room or near the open door. Also, if a flame is not lit by my own hand, I cannot sense or control it."

"Oh?" Belle chirped at the realization. "So if I put out a candle in my room you'll have to enter to relight it? Or you will need the door open instead?"

"Oui, yes. Once it is out like that, I can no longer sense it. Like a string attached to my finger that has been cut. And then there are also the other lights that appeared when...oh nevermind. You may see them yet."

" _Them_?"

"Do not worry Mademoiselle. You'll see; ze are harmless."

"What do you mean?" Belle puzzled.

" **_Ahem_ ** !" Cogsworth loudly cleared his throat using the speaking trumpet. "As **_I_ ** was saying!" He crossed his arms and tapped his small foot. Lumiere and Belle snapped their attention to Cogsworth. Belle felt as if she had been scolded by some absurd schoolmaster. 

"While the appearance of this grand room may resemble the opulent design of a palace, it is indeed a castle," Cogsworth's tense voice blared out of the speaking trumpet as he motioned to the room. "The foundations of the fortified Chatuex Pointenue were originally built in the ninth century utilizing the mountainous height of the nearby landscape and the deep forests as an advantage against invaders. Indeed, you may have noticed when first entering the castle crossing a wide stone bridge. That bridge originally functioned as a drawbridge until the fifteenth century when major alterations took place. That bridge, for instance, became a permanent structure, as well as the castle fortification walls being demolished in certain areas to extend and improve the established thirteenth century gardens. But more on that later.

We currently stand in the splendor of the Emerald Dining hall which is built within the stonework of the original Great Hall. Major updates took place during the early Renaissance and continued on well into the baroque period. You see, initially, the Count de L'Encre.."

Cogsworth droned on and on as they left the dining hall and weaved their way through the corridors to the large lobby. Cogsworth explained the existing foundations of the old keep and bailey across from the great hall were reinforced and connected to form living quarters and the main lobby which was further renovated. He explained the techniques and artistry of the masonry and also who commissioned it and why. Cogsworth's face chimed twice during the lecture like tour in the main lobby and Lumiere suggested they continue on. They passed through a corridor lined with tall windows on the left. Snowflakes were dusting the brown autumn grass and shaped evergreens. 

"Even though it is now twilight, you can still appreciate the splendor of nature placed into the order of our eastern most courtyard," Cogsworth gestured to the left windows. "It is maintained by our gardeners with pristine trimmed hedges and cedar trees repeating the pattern of the fleur de lis. Unfortunately, the courtyard has no veranda and I use veranda as an expletive, although, it was a _porch_ choice of words."

Cogsworth chuckled at his pun and they moved down the corridor to a chapel within the castle.

"As you can see, standing guard outside of the chapel are the exquisite statues of the archangels Michael and Gabriel sculpted in late Renaissance design. It is curious how these statues get rid of their sore throats- by _gargoyling. "_

Cogsworth twittered with laughter as they entered the ornate chapel. 

"The chapel was renovated in the late sixteenth century with an early baroque design leading to the replacement of the original Gothic stained glass windows. This replacement of the glass actually caused some manner of dispute with a renowned bishop…. but the best way to settle church disputes are with _canons_." 

Cogsworth laughed again and Belle looked over at Lumiere who shrugged. Neither of them were finding the wordplay amusing. Cogsworth continued to speak about the late gothic and early baroque decor within the chapel which could easily seat over a hundred people in the pews. He spoke of important masses, christenings and knightings that Belle could not remember reading in any sort of book she ran across. They then moved out into a lit corridor to the left and entered a small fixed theater. The walls and stage were decorated in splendid jewel and golden embellishments. Cogsworth explained the stage was a short stage only seating a hundred compared to the grander stages of Versailles. It was still the first theater Belle had ever been in and she struggled to fathom the immense size of other theaters seating thousands. Cogsworth described the noteworthy performances and architectural design when he cracked his next joke. 

"Although everyone knows it is difficult to maintain friendships with opera singers. For them it is always _MI MI MI mi_!" Laughing he exited and led Belle across an antechamber where the ceiling design changed from sturdy but beautiful stone to more ornate tilework and plaster flourishes.

"Interestingly, it is known that the masons of these galleries disliked the theater masons style. You see they were _arch-enemies_. Haha, erm, yes. Come along," Cogsworth practically bounced with glee.

The antechamber led to a multilevel gallery of sorts. Mingled amongst grotesque monstrous statues and stonework hung portraits of plump nobles, ornate ceremonial swords, tapestries, and gifts. Cogsworth knew every tiny detail about them and he was eager to share it. This included an explanation regarding a particular princess's obsession with a rather large collection of hatpins. Belle recognized some of the portraits as prominent royal figures including those of four raven haired royal princes of the past. She tried holding back a yawn as he explained a Prussian vase that was given as an engagement gift. While Belle was amazed at the treasures before her, she couldn't believe how dull Cogsworth was making it all of this history sound.

 _'Maybe if I read about these things in a book, I could actually retain the information?'_ Belle thought. _'But just listening to him go on and on is making me tired. No wonder Chip didn't take to chess if he had a three hour lecture regarding the history of pawns before playing.'_

As they traveled up a flight of stairs they reached an atrium overlooking the gallery they had been walking through. Belle realized it was the same atrium from her search for her father not but two days before. The castle was dark and cold that night. Now it appeared completely different with Lumiere controlling the candles. The rooms and passageways instead filled with warm welcoming candle light. They continued to walk through the display galleries and then turned right towards some large stone stairs. 

"Now if you would follow me upward," Cogsworth continued in a monotonous tone, " and please notice, if you will, the fluted iron work design of the Tudor stair banister. These stairs were created during the castle's original renovations and are made from Carra marble outside of Tuscany, Italy. It took a total of three years to transport the marble from the region. Indeed marble is a valuable material and should not be taken for _granite_. Tee hee hehmm." 

Cogsworth chuckled and smiled as they walked up the flight of stairs reaching the third floor. Lumiere put a candle hand up to his face, shaking his head in embarrassment at the clock-man's puns. 

Belle now recognized the staircase. It was the same staircase the Beast used to lead her to her chambers. The remarkable dragon-like statues twisted around tridents and spears in their claws and suits of armor lined the walls of the third floor.

 _'Up one more level is my room,'_ Belle noted. 

"As you can see, the pseudo facade was stripped away to reveal a minimalist rococo design. Do note the unusual inverted vaulted ceilings. This is yet another example of the neo-classical baroque period and, as I always say, if it's not _baroque_ , don't fix it. Ah-ha-ha!" Cogsworth doubled over bursting out in laughter from his joke, gasping for air. Belle glanced at Lumiere. He gave her a shrug and rolled his eyes. Cogsworth's jokes had grown tiresome. 

"Now then-" Cogsworth chuckled. "-where was I? Ah yes! Now then, if I may draw your attention to the flying buttresses above the --"

"I think I must retire for the night," Belle exaggerated a big yawning stretch. 

"Oh but Mademoiselle," Cogsworth retorted. "There is still so much more to see, the astronomy tower, the gardens-" 

"Cogsworth," Lumiere cut his off wrapping his candelabra arm around Cogsworth "-it is late and dark. How can we show her ze gardens in the dark? And with the snowfall picking up? Our guest is tired. It would be far better to show her in the full daylight after she is well rested."

"Oh, I suppose your right..." Cogsworth sighed disappointed. His pun filled tour that went on for almost two hours hadn't drained him of any energy. "Well then, we shall escort you back to your room, Mademoiselle. Now up the stairs to the East Wing we go. There you can see the influences in the Greco Roman designs of the ancient pagan goddesses; Diana and Artemis. As we approach the apartments designed in 1642 for the Countess D'Ar--"

"Oh that's alright," Belle cut him off. " _I'm sure_ you have plenty of work to oversee with the staff. You are the Head of Household afterall and that is a very demanding post."

"Why, yes..." Cogsworth puffed up with pride- "yes it is. Well, good night then." 

" Yes, Bon nuit, Mademoiselle," Lumiere waved winking. Belle nodded to him as he crooked his candelabra arm under Cogsworth by his brass ornamentation arm. The pair marched down the stairs as Cogsworth began to spout off how demanding his job really was. 

" But of course it is mon amiee," Lumiere agreed, keeping the clock man on track down the stairs. Belle was glad Lumiere was able to see she was bored and drew Cogsworth away. _'_

 _No wonder Lumiere teases him so,_ ' Belle surmised smiling.

She hurried up the next flight of stairs. Reaching the landing, Belle was certain that her room was to the right. 

_'I haven't seen the other side of this floor though,"_ Belle pondered curiously. She noted that the lit candle sconces leading to her apartments were a normal sort; golden colored three tiered metal candelabras. The candle sconces to the left, however, were very unusual. The lit sconces were sculpted like white stone arms extending from the walls, each holding a single waxy glowing candle in their slender fingers.

 _'Those must be the lights Lumiere mentioned,'_ Belle reasoned. _'If my chamber is located in the East Wing, like Cogsworth said, that direction must be the West Wing.'_

The pale arms moved leaning further into the left corridor. It was like people of marble beckoning her down the hall. 

_'Well, that's eerie,'_ Belle thought. _'Do they want me to follow? I suppose if I can avoid Him, it won't be a problem.'_

Her interest grew and she walked down into the West Wing. The corridor ended and split in two opposite directions. The arm sconces moved slowly and ever so slightly again. They pointed towards the darker corridor where no candles were lit.

_'Surely no one would be lingering in the dark? There must be something with the magic spell happening.'_

More and more grotesque statues in angry and anguished postures lined the walls- far more than anywhere else in the castle. Belle walked past large tarnishing mirrors that were framed in the same manner as the mirrors in her antechamber. These were all cracked and broken. She wasn't sure if she was frightened or excited from the mysteriousness of the corridor. She reached the end of the corridor where a line of doors began. Sculpted serpents and thorns twisted around the door frames. She followed a glow of warm candlelight around a right corner. 

Turning the corner, Belle was faced with tall double doors towering in front of her. Two hooded cloaked stone sculptures squatted on each side of the door holding a floor candelabra aglow in their skeletal iron cast hands. The bronze door handles were shaped to form a single lion's head.

 _'Should I turn back?'_ Belle hesitated at the macabre of the doors. She reached for the door handle, gathering up her courage.

 _'No!_ ' Belle berated her delay. _'Something is happening. The magic is leading me here.'_

Belle pulled the lion door handle with all her might and it creaked open into a dark cold room. The candlelight streamed in from the corridor and dimly lit the huge mess before her. Broken furniture was knocked over and tattered fabric waved in the frigid breeze from the ceiling. She swore she saw the bones and ribcage of decomposed creatures mingled in with the furniture but it was difficult to tell. Belle tiptoed into the room. Marble busts of stately men had been broken and paintings torn. It smelled musty and sour, as if it hadn't been cleaned in ages. 

_'Is this a storage room?'_ Belle wondered. _'What in the world does the magic want me to find here?_ ' Belle walked deeper into the darkness looking around.

Two brilliant blue eyes peered out from the shadowed wall.

 _'Someone's here!'_ Belle gasped, jumping in surprise.

The eyes remained unmoving. Unblinking. Walking closer, Belle realized that it was a large painting hanging upon the wall with others. The shadows were canvas pieces ripped away and dangling from the frame. Directly next to the portrait was a family painting. It was horribly torn as well, save for the figure of a young woman dressed in a magnificent white dress, a glittering diamond necklace and a swirling diamond tiara. 

_'She's like a figurine doll,'_ Belle thought, noting the young woman's pale skin and platinum blonde hair. Belle couldn't make out the torn facial features of the man next to her with dark hair or the golden haired child below. She turned her attention back to the portrait that caught her eye. The male figure had the same dazzling blue eyes as the young woman in the portrait to the left. Belle carefully lifted a piece of canvas trying to reattach the cheek to the other eye. She did not want the damaged canvas to rip further.

 _'Are they related?'_ Belle pondered. _'Who are they?'_

A ebbing burst of fuchsia light nearly blinded Belle. She let the canvas fall back in place as she rubbed her eyes in mild pain from the sudden flash. Belle turned towards the right to find the source. 

_'Amazing!'_ Belle gaped.

Off in a corner a glowing brilliant red rose floated and caught her attention. It hovered under a beautiful engraved glass cloche on a marble pedestal. The bloom seemed to be wilting and already had lost some outer petals. Motes of pinkish light fluttered like sunlight on water off the petals and drifted down to the table surface. Belle drew closer to the rose. She had seen too much of the castle magic folk to think that it was a trick of an automation and candle light. 

_'This is real!'_ Belle smiled giddy and leaned in for further examination. ' _Real magic- a real magic rose!'_

The sound of a whisper, like a far off babbling brook, echoed her mind. Stepping towards the stone carved pedestal, Belle felt warmth like the spring's sun radiated from the flower. She lifted off the ornate glass cloche delicately setting it on the ground.

 _'Is the rose itself emitting heat?'_ Belle wondered. _'Are the sounds coming from it too?'_

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and decided to test her theory. She slowly reached a finger towards the rose as if to pet a small bird. The whispering grew louder and clearer in her mind.

 _'Is that Latin?'_

Squinting, she braced for her fingertip to potentially get scorched from the magic as she extended her fingers curiously towards the glowing rose. A shadow grew over the flower.

 _'Why is growing dark?'_ Belle thought furrowing her brows. 

She heard an animal like snort. Glancing up, her breath hitched as she jumped back startled. The horned chimera castle lord was only a few feet away from her. The fur covered creature towered on the open aired balcony. His breath steamed in the cold snowy air. A ragged wine colored cape billowed behind him. 

_'He's here?!'_ Belle's mind screamed. 

He lunged towards her. 

Belle squeezed her eyes shut as she recoiled putting her hands up involuntarily to block the death blow. Her stomach clenched and she gritted her teeth. She felt a sweep of wind near her feet. Belle felt no pain.

 _'I'm still alive?'_ Belle thought surprised. 

Opening up her eyes, she saw the creature clutching the glass cloche covering the rose with his dark clawed fingers. His massive body hunched over the delicate glass and bloom, as he stared at the rose intently. His piercing blue human-like eyes were wide with concern.

 _'Is that his? Is he ....afraid?_ ' Belle wondered for a moment. The chimera creature snarled and slowly turned to glower at her. He moved hunched over on all fours, slipping in front of the rose.

"Why did you come here?" he rumbled with his sharp teeth bared. 

"I'm--" Belle gulped. Instinctual fear of being so near to the massive creature grew stronger and she backed away. She no longer had the anger of her father's safety fueling her courage. The wheels of Belle's mind sped up quickly to the gravity of the situation. The realizations hit Belle with clear precision:

_'One; I'm in the West Wing._

_Two; I've run into Him._

_Three; There's a magic rose._

_Four; The magic rose belongs to Him in one way or another as he's showing concern for it._

_Five; Papa was imprisoned for trying to take a rose. This is probably that rose._

_Six; I may wind up in the prison cell because I am near this rose._

_Seven; There are worse fate than imprisonment. I may have to endure them because I followed some magic candles.'_

"I'm sorry," Belle quickly apologized.

"I warned you never to come here!" the fur covered creature growled, standing taller onto his two clawed feet.

"I didn't mean any harm," Belle shook her head trying not to trip over broken furniture. The creature balled up his huge bear like fists stepping closer to her. 

"Do you realise what you could have done?!" the creature roared. He threw punches to his right and left, throwing furniture about. It crashed into other furniture as drawers spilled out and table legs cracked.

"Please stop," Belle cried out, afraid that the furniture would hit her. 

"Get out!!! he bellowed. "You have no right to be here. **No right!** "

Belle watched frozen with terror as the massive creature rampaged through the room. She couldn't believe the destruction. It was like a circus bear or war stallion had gone mad wild in a town market.

"No," she whimpered terrified to move. 

_'I'll be killed if he keeps going on like this,_ ' she heard herself think. 

" **_Get Out_ **!' he roared again, shouting into her face.

Belle saw the gleam of his large fanged teeth and felt a surge of strength to run out of the room. She ran and ran down the dimly lit West Wing. She ran back into the warm light of the East Wing. She didn't stop until she reached her chamber. Bursting open the door, she slammed it shut behind her. 

" Mon dieu," Madame de la Grande Bouche sputtered awake and yawned. "Is dinner over already?"

 _'I have to get out of here. I'm not safe here,'_ Belle's mind raced. _'I have to leave this castle now!'_

Deaf to the magical armoire lady's questions, she grabbed her navy cloak out of Madame de la Grande Bouche. Belle dashed out the doors fastening her wooden cloak toggle as she ran down the marble steps. Down one flight and another, she ran all the way to the lobby grand staircase to the tall castle doors

"Where are you going?" Lumiere called out. 

Belle turned around, pulled out of her fear filled flight. Her hands trembled on the large metal door ring. Lumiere and Cogsworth stood on the lobby grand staircase, eyes wide with concern. The magic folk had been kind but their Master was dangerous.

 _'I've got too comfortable here,'_ Belle thought.

"Promise or no promise, I can't stay here any longer," Belle cried out.

She pulled hard on the metal door ring as the large door groaned.

" No! Please wait!" Cogsworth protested as the door opened.

The night air was gusting with heavy snowfall onto the carpet and tiles. Belle furrowed her brow to stop the cold flakes from entering her eyes. She pulled up her hood and ran outside into the snowy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all🤗 Thank you for reading and sorry for the delay. It's been a shit several weeks physically and emotionally. I'm so thankful for my partner having my back through all of it. And I'm so happy there was no ER visits this time! Whoot!  
> Well, unable to focus, I've been sitting on this chapter rough draft for 6 weeks now. I was finally able to revisit it this week and it seriously needed editing. All was amuck. Amuck a muck amuck...  
> So...
> 
> 1\. I'm basing my inspiration of the great dining hall off the green room in Windsor castle with more dark green.  
> https://www.rct.uk/collection/themes/trails/furnishing-windsor-castle
> 
> 2\. Can't remember where I read about speaking trumpet in the 17th century or the modern equivalent of a bull horn but I do recall while rare, they did exist. 
> 
> 3\. Fixed theaters also became more prominent in palaces during the baroque period as nobles didn't want to always go and leave for the theater.
> 
> 4\. Sorry not sorry for all the lame puns. They are all part of Cogsworth's personality, I swear. Not my own...at all.
> 
> 5 While I love museums and architecture I hate tours. Listening to the guide drone on for hours makes me so tired. Reading is so much easier. Give me a damn pamphlet! Thanks brain.
> 
> Unfortunately, there's no guarantees on when I can get the next chapter up but let's hope for the best🙏


	15. Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snow storm rages. Belle escapes into the forest afraid for her life. The Beast realizes his actions. Danger lurks in the woods.

The cold snow hit Belle like a wall. The past two days she had been comfortably toasty within the pastel personal chambers with her very own bed, fireplace and steamy bath. The sharp wintery elements took her by surprise as her leather flats allowed the wind to bite at her ankles through her thin stockings. 

_'I have to find Philippe,'_ she thought shivering. _'He's my best chance at escape.'_

Belle carefully stepped down the slippery ice-covered castle steps, bracing herself from the heavy blowing snow. The cold flakes stung her eyes as they adjusted to the dim evening light.

 _'Cogsworth mentioned the stables being near the old tower and chapel,'_ Belle remembered turning towards the right, dragging her hand along the frigid castle stone wall. Her feet burned from the cold as she trudged along in the shin high snow. She wished she had proper gloves or boots but wouldn't dare turn back into the castle. She hoped her hands would stay warm and avoid frostbite. The staff may be kind and thoughtful, but that creature...he was an explosive powder keg who now had a reason to hate her.

After wandering into a dark messy room used for storage, Belle encountered a magic flower and then, the creature. He flew into a raging fit insisting that she leave. The creature's size easily splintered tables, cabinets and more items sprawled about in the dark room. Thinking of all the crushed furniture, Belle was now glad that no magic folk had greeted her within the room. If any of the castle staff would have been inside, they would have been decimated. 

Belle spotted the glow of a lantern fixed outside a building. She ran towards the light catching a whiff of hay and horse. Entering the grand stable with long rows of pens that were lit by lanterns, she noticed they could easily house more than fifty stallions. 

"Philippe," Belle called out.

She heard a familiar neigh sound further inside. Dashing over on the brick floor, she found a heavy blanket draped over the large draft horse's back keeping him warm. He nodded his head in greeting and Belle patted his golden coat happy to see him in good care.

 _'I definitely need a saddle for this ride,'_ Belle thought, searching the stable beams and found rows of bridles, bits, stir ups and more. She grabbed what appeared to be the best fit and saddled Philippe. Her fingers trembled from fear and cold as she tightened the leather straps. The castle creature could appear at any moment. She wanted to take a lantern to light the way but thought the glow may make them an easy target. She had to be quick and quiet. Climbing into the saddle, Belle nudged Philippe out of his stall. She urged him forward out the door and he paused at the snow line.

"Come on Philippe," Belle nudged with her leather flat heel. " We can do it!"

The draft horse miffed at the weather, threw back his cream mane and obeyed her trudging forward. Belle led the way over the stone bridge cautious of any slipper ice. The river still roared below as it had not frozen over at all. Although there was a barrier of stone preventing any sort of fall, the weather was rattling Belle's nerves. Reaching the other side of the bridge Belle dismounted and pushed the snow-covered ornate iron gate open. The forest beyond was covered in a thick layer of snow bending the bare shadowy branches downward in the dim nightfall. The road ahead had completely disappeared with snow that had filled the high stone path. 

Remounting, Belle dug her heels into Philippe's ribs and took off into the snowy forest. 

* * *

_‘What was she doing here? And with the rose?'_ the Beast's breath raced as he felt his heart clenching.

He felt frozen stiff. His ears were still ringing.

_'Why didn't I smell her? Why did I tell her to get out? I can’t believe told her to leave. Idiot! Damn! Her face. She was so afraid again.'_

The Beast's mind raced as he squeezed the sides of his head in his hands.

_'She was trying to touch it. Who knows what could have happened? That could have destroyed it. It could have destroyed me!'_

Belle had snuck into his private domain. He leapt in a panic to protect the cursed floating magic rose which she had uncovered. But the rose; his doom and life, was safe. He tried to ask her why **_she_ **was in his room.

She was fear stricken and said she didn't mean any harm. It sounded like a lie to him. So many people had lied to him for all his life after all.

He had wondered how she could not know she was in the West Wing. He decided that was impossible. Most importantly, he had forbidden her from entering the West Wing, yet **_she_** disobeyed him. Just like when she wouldn't come down to dinner. It angered him further.

He wanted to grab her by the arm and toss her out of the room. If he would do that, he might harm her. It was so frustrating. 

He shouted and thrashed about in frustration.

"GET OUT!" he had screamed again and again with fists clenched.

That was the last thing the Beast remembered as his ears rung and he heard his heartbeat pound like a drum in his mind. 

When he opened his eyes, he was alone. The bedchamber doors were wide open. Belle was gone. He had frightened her once again. 

"I didn't mean to..." he said quietly to the air. He clenched his clawed hands over his face in frustration. His horns and fangs protruded and poked at his rough skin and fur. Sighing he realized just how horrifying he must have looked to her; a monster losing control and yelling at her. 

' _Even if I tried to be amiable, how could she ever see past this hideous twisted face.'_

He dragged his hands over his eyes and looked at the damage he had caused this time. All around him, he saw the extent of his rage. Another dresser was smashed. Another table overturned and the legs broken. Another side table crushed. More splinters and debris mixed in with the pale bones of his kills.

 _'I only can destroy with this tormented cursed body. These claws shred and these teeth rip. And Belle…she had to dodge it all,'_ the Beast gasped realizing the degree of the damage.

 _'Did I hurt her?'_ he questioned his actions with silent concern.

Inhaling a deep breath and closing his eyes, he tried to smell any blood from any potential injuries he might have inflicted. He didn't smell any fresh flowing blood. Instead, flashes of blood and fur and screams of dying animals invaded his mind. The Beast slumped forward burying his head in his clawed hands. His mind conjured the image of Belle's body strewn out on the floor. Her head sickly twisted like the broken neck of a deer invaded his mind. He had seen such glazed dead eyes before, staring at nothing, long ago...

 _'I could have killed her!'_ he groaned in shame.

 _'Monster, monster, monster,'_ a voice in his mind echoed. His heart clenched again.

 _'Any chance of me returning to normal is absolutely over,'_ the Beast frowned. _'I didn't realize that I had hope still. That that foolish dream was still alive. It's dead now.'_

 _'The rose is almost spent, and I don't know how much time is left. Any chance of hope I had when she arrived was just folly. I'm helpless against this cruel fate, but it can't be saved. I didn't know what that witch truly meant back then, but now,'_ he pulled at his long golden mane like hair. _'Now I do. She said hate had grown in my heart. Now I see it. I couldn't even tell Belle to leave without almost killing her. It's inexcusable. It's reprehensible.'_

He tried to catch his breath, but it was racing from the weight of his thoughts.

_'She's too good. She sacrificed her freedom for her father. And I only yelled at her and shut her in her room and hid myself away instead of trying to befriend her. It's not like I haven't charmed others before. I could have done it with her. I could have at least tried.'_

_'And she stayed quiet in her room without any demands. Yes, she cried like a normal feeling being, but there were no hysterics or name calling. She didn't throw anything at me or spit at me. She just accepted everything. Her only flaw of refusing to eat was from her fear. What sane person wouldn't be frightened of dining in the same room with me?'_

_'She was my one chance. She found her way here. The only person besides her Father to find this cursed shit place. If I hadn't wallowed so much, maybe I could have ventured out and maybe befriended and wooed someone. I thought it was foolish though. I could have left though. Nothing was stopping me.'_

_'What was I thinking? I was so careless with my cursed fate. I'm a worthless coward. There's no point anymore at trying to live like this. I had my chance and I wasted it. She could have set me free from this curse. It's all my fault. I just want this miserable world to be done with me.'_

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the air. He was trembling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten.... You don't understand. There's so little of me...."

" **MASTER!"** Lumiere cried out. The Beast jumped surprised and was pulled away from his own thoughts.

"The girl is gone!" Lumiere declared loudly.

The Beast turned towards the door moving his hands away from his face. Lumiere stood in the doorway as Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts came bouncing along after the candlestick man. 

"It's fine," the Beast exhaled slouching. "It was hopeless anyway."

"But the storm," Cogsworth sputtered. "And the wolves and cliffs!"

"She'll meet her end!" Lumiere gasped.

"It is a death sentence," Mrs. Potts voice quivered quietly.

The Beast looked behind him out at the balcony. The wind shrieked with racing snowflakes gusting in the frigid darkness. Despite the awning's construction to keep out the elements, snow piled up several inches on the banister and the tiles. It was a raging winter storm.

 _'She ventured out… into that blizzard?'_ the Beast realized. His stomach dropped but then it was replaced with something else. It felt different. He wasn't certain if it was anger but he didn't like it though. He huffed in frustration. 

_'It's pointless to try and keep her here to break the spell. It simply won't work. I might harm her one way or another. But this... this storm definitely puts her in more peril than I can inflict.'_

"I'll bring her back to the castle," the Beast growled. 

The trio gasped in joy. 

"And then she can leave when the storm is over," he strode over from the rose making his way to his study. "Good riddance! I don't want her blood on my hands. Bring me her hairbrush," he shouted to the staff walking past them. "Her scent has changed."

"Well, at least it's a start," Mrs. Potts remarked to the other two. "It is the thought that counts."

The Beast rolled his eyes. Mrs. Potts always had something to say even if it didn't make any sense. 

_'A start to what?'_ the Beast grimaced. _'This is the end of my only hope.'_

Entering his study, he fixed himself in front of the ornate magic mirror.

"Show me the girl."

* * *

Belle rode Philippe as fast as she could down the tree bare sloping meadow. Her navy-blue cape streamed behind her in the howling wind. The snow was deep from the wind blowing off the cliffs from the north. Horse and rider dashed towards the southern tree line as the snow gusted into Belle eyes. She could hardly see anything but white. She was glad for the blinders she put onto Philippe to protect his eyes. Startled pheasant and birds flew from their snowy perches as Philippe's heavy hoofs smashed through the forest brambles.

 _'We can do it.'_ Belle thought as the trees thickened. _'I'll be free from that chimera creature. The magic should understand why I had to break my promise. He could have hurt me. I was in danger. If not, I'm clever enough to figure out any possible consequences.'_

Philippe came to a stop and stamped wildly neighing. Belle tried to get him under control and looked ahead to see what had spooked him. Looking ahead she saw nothing, but the shadows of trees dimly lit by the snowy twilight. She heard soft dog like growls, but it was much louder and much deeper. 

_'Wolves!'_ Belle gasped. _‘I guess hoped too soon. Is this what I get for running away?'_

She veered Philippe left toward the west and kicked his ribs onward. He raced forward and Belle steered the reigns weaving in and out in between the shadows of tall pine trees. Looking over her shoulder she saw large gray canine bodies chasing them.

 _'It's a whole pack!'_ Belle furrowed her brows. Changing her attention forward, she rode towards a long clear patch of snowy land. It flattened ahead of her and she urged Philippe to speed through.

The pale snow-covered ground gave way. 

Philippe sank downward with a whinnying neigh. Belle squealed as icy water soaked her ankles and splashed her legs. Her eyes widened realizing her error; she had ridden Philippe out onto a lake. 

The lake was frozen over with a layer of snow but could not withstand their weight this early in the cold. Looking down she saw that the water came up to Philippe's underbelly. Cursing her miscalculation, she urged him forward in the unstable ice. The wolves behind her whimpered and howled as they splashed about the icy water and were trying to swim. Philippe climbed up a sloping white bank dripping wet. 

"Good boy," Belle shivered, kicking him forward. "Come on. Almost safe."

She nudged Phillippe and he ran further into the woods. The freezing water had slowed his pace and the dim evening light was fading fast into darkness. Belle tried to veer him more southward away from the growing hills and mountain before them. 

Philippe reared upwards onto his hind legs kicking. Belle tried to squeeze tightly with her legs leaning forward to stay on but fell backwards out of the saddle. 

The air knocked out of her as she gasped for stinging cold breath in the snow. Her hands felt painfully icy as she tried to push herself to sit up. Dizzy and coughing for air, she rolled onto her stomach seeing stars. Looking up she saw several wolves circling Philippe. She always knew that wolves were larger than dogs but seeing several of their gray fur bodies up close, she felt her stomach clench. Philippe reared and kicked at the pack. She didn't have time to count them. Philippe was not only her way home and but her beloved horse for almost a decade

Adrenaline surged as Belle grabbed a cold damp branch poking out from the snow. She ran towards the horse swinging away. She made contact at the back of one wolf's head. Another jumped onto Philippe's back and Belle hit the wolf in the jaw. The wolf fell away shaking his head.

 _'I just need to remount,_ ' Belle thought, trying to grab the swinging reigns from Philippe. Inconsolable, the draft horse continued to stamp and kick at the wolf circle enclosing them. Belle struggled and couldn't grab his reigns or the saddle with all his thrashing about. A wolf lunged at Belle and she swung quickly to hit it in the shoulder. It snarled and grabbed the stick with its sharp teeth. Belle tried to hold on, but the snow shifted from under her and she landed on her face. 

_'I must run!'_ Belle thought. ’ _I need to get another branch. I can’t face these wolves with nothing!’_

Belle rose from her knees and started to run in the blinding snow away from the whinnying and the snarls. She felt her cloak choke around her neck and was pulled backwards. She lost her footing on the sloping snow hill. The world tilted as she fell on her side. Her hip stung as she felt something hard underneath the snow cover. Crying out from the pain, she looked behind her. A wolf shook its sharp jaw with the navy cloak in between its maw. Belle fumbled to undo the clasp but heard a growl ahead of her. Whipping her head around she saw another wolf in front of her at the top of the slope. The snarling canine crouched, baring its white knife-like teeth at her with its ears pulled back.

 _'No!'_ her mind cried. _'It can't end like this. I don't want to be eaten alive!'_

The wolf pounced. Belle couldn't help but scream.

Her scream was drowned out by a deafening resonating roar. 

Shaking and rolling over to sit up, Belle saw the source of the terrifying deep roar; it was the chimera creature. Fear and relief froze her in place. 

The unusual castle lord's tall fur covered body stood in front of her in the snow. He held the pouncing wolf in the air by the throat roaring into its face. His ruby wine-colored cape streamed behind him in the snowy wind as fog from his breath billowed into the wolves terrified yellow eyes. His teeth weren't as sharp as the wolves save for several in the front, but the roar and his strength were effective. The grayish brown wolf dangled in his grip, scratching with its clawed paws trying to break free. Belle could tell that these wolves were huge and nearly as long as she was tall. 

_'Why is **He** here?_' Belle wondered. 

The chimera creature threw down the wolf into the snowy ground and drew closer to Belle. He crouched on all fours and moved planting his arms on each side of her. Belle remained on the ground unsure of what to do. She felt the heat of his large chest behind her like a wall. The chimera creature lowly grumbled and it sounded deeper that any animal she ever heard before. She glanced above to see him perched over her like a dog protecting a pup. Snarls ahead of her drew her gaze as the wolves recollected their pack formation. This time Belle could count at twelve pairs of yellow eyes glowering at her in the snowfall. 

_'There's too many!'_ Belle's mind screamed as they bared their teeth.

The fur covered creature soared above her barreling forward into the wolves. His red cloak billowed as the pack returned to rush towards him. The creature slashed with his claws, but the wolves pounced onto his arms and back sinking their claws into his flesh. Rolling in the snow, the creature roared trying to crush the wolves under his bodyweight. They shredded his dark breeches and cloak. Red blood oozed from somewhere.

Belle stood up shaking and moved slowly over to Philippe. She didn't want to draw the attention of the wolves with any sudden movement. Belle crept along and watched with horrific awe as the wolves gruesomely wrestled the creature. The wolves slashed and bit into the chimera's fur. Crimson blood splashed against the white cold ground. A wolf climbed the creature’s back and bite into his thick neck. The chimera creature punched the wolf in the head, and it slackened its jaw.

The creature reached around and ripped the wolf off sending it soaring into the air. The wolf flew in the air against a tree and yelped as it hit. It whimpered in the snow and did not stand back up. Then it was quiet.

The rest of the wolves stopped their attack after hearing the yelp. The wolves whimpered and yelped retreating away. Howling out short mournful calls, they disappeared into the snowy trees.

Belle reached for Phillipe and caught his reigns petting the terrified braying draft horse. She felt her hands trembling on the saddle straps as she saw the chimera creature standing alone in the snow further away. His back was turned towards her as his cloak blew in the wind. The cold air steamed off his warm body around him as he panted from the fight 

_'He did it,'_ Belle marveled. _'We're alive. He defeated them. But...'_ she continued to stare in confusion _. 'Why did he save me though...I ran away. I broke my promise..."_

The creature slowly turned. It took a labored step towards her. Belle saw the blood dripping from his arm, staining the snow bright red.

Gasping for air, the creature stared straight at her. His piercing human like blue eyes unsettled Belle more than his protruding fang teeth or curled horns. He looked as if he was going to say something. 

Swaying, his eyes rolled back. The massive creature collapsed in the snow with a thud. Belle gasped at the blood smearing a crimson stain into the snow as his fur body slid several feet further down the hill

 _'Doesn't matter,'_ Belle huffed. _'I can go now.'_

Belle turned to Philippe checking vital areas for any severe wound. Only a few surface scratches had been inflicted. 

_'Good boy. Very lucky,_ ' she thought patting him. She heard a awful groan from behind her. Loud labored breathes huffed slowly. Belle turned around seeing the large creature still lie in the snow.

 _'He protected me,'_ Belle though shocked that that huge creature had crouched over her using himself as a shield. _'Should I really just leave him here injured? To freeze in the snow? The wolves will return smelling the blood...'_

Belle hesitantly took a step towards the chimera creature struggling to breath in the cold snow.

 _'No, I can't do that,'_ she sighed. _'He may be frightening but he did save me. It seems he’s less deadly than other forest beasts anyhow._ ’

Belle walked over to the fur covered chimera. Kneeling down next to the strewn-out creature she could see broad and large he truly was. He was well over seven feet tall, perhaps even eight feet. The chimera castle lord was shivering in the snow. 

_'The cold and going into shock?'_ Belle guessed undoing her cloak clasp and lying it on top of him. He tried to open his eyes and lift his head, but he seemed too tired. Belle rested her hand hesitantly on his shoulder and he sighed closing his eyes.

_'He needs warmth. He needs to go back.'_

"Hey. You can't fall asleep," Belle shook him gently. The creature groaned and opened his eyes.

“Just go,” his deep voice rasped.

"You have no authority over me. You don’t tell me what to do,” Belle almost chuckled at the strange circumstance of being the stronger of the two at the moment. “Can you ride?"

The creature head weaved, and he grunted. It appeared his head was rattled from the fight.

"That's a no, then," Belle sighed. 

"Alright then, just hold on," Belle assured. "We'll get you home. You have to help me. You must sit up."

The creature tried to move his arms under his shoulders to push himself upwards.

"Not like that," Belle directed. "You'll hurt yourself further. Roll onto your side. Slowly now." The creature rolled and Belle stood next to him tucking her arms under his armpits trying to pull him to sit. She couldn't budge him, but she felt him move into her direction. He sat with his legs in front of him hunched over with his arms limp.

"Good," Belle adjusted her cloak around his back. "Now stay just so."

The creatures head nodded as he stared downward. Belle crossed her arms around her body and moved to the hill toward Philippe. Her teeth chattered as she led him towards the creature making sure to block the creature’s form from his sight. She stroked Philippe's mane worried that the sight of the creature may spook the horse.

"Bow," Belle ordered moving her hand arched in between the draft horse's front legs. Philippe stamped, stubborn and confused as to why Belle wanted him to do tricks now. 

"Come on boy, bow," Belle snapped her fingers and repeated the downward movement. Philippe moved to kneel down in the snow. " Stay, Philippe," Belle commanded moving over to the chimera creature quickly. 

"Alright," she said putting her hand onto his shoulder. "You must get onto Philippe immediately but gently."

The creature moved to all fours and heaved himself to drape over the draft horses back. Her cloak fell into the snow.

' _Like a sack of grain,'_ Belle though picking her cloak up and fixing it around her shoulders again. ' _That's unconventional but it works."_

Philippe’s front legs twitched at the extra weight. 

"Up, Philippe," Belle ordered and the draft horse heaved and standing up. Petting the large walnut colored horse, she moved to grab the reigns. She tugged to have Philippe follow her lead through the massive snow trail the chimera creature had made. Belle spotted her hair ribbon in the snow and stooped to pick it up. Her hair had come undone during her struggle with the wolves but she had no time to fix it now. She pulled her navy blue hood over her hair to keep out the snow.

"Try to stay awake," she shouted to the creature behind her and he replied with a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all.😊  
> I hope the wait wasn’t too bad. It’s hard to write about winter storms when it’s a humid hot 95°F outside.🌡☀️  
> Something was missing from this chapter I wound up to go back to listen to the Broadway soundtrack to figure it out. I originally forgot to lay down the angsty the undertones of “ If I Can’t Love Her.”  
> (cue potter puppet pals- angst angst angst)  
> I’ll write more asap but it looks like it’s currently a 2-3 week process per chapter.🤷  
> Thanks for reading!🥀🥀🥀


	16. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle returns to the castle with the Beast and tries to ensure his wounds don't worsen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild descriptions of medical stitches. Ya'll've been warned.

While some snowfall in autumn was considered quite normal in the mountains, Belle had never seen this much snow in October. Indeed, it was the day before November, but the weather seemed more like a December storm. The snowstorm was not letting up, but a bright moon managed to slightly illuminate the dark forest behind the thick clouds. Belle was thankful she could discern the shadowy shapes of pine trees through the flurry of white flakes.

Belle led Philippe by the reigns with the massive chimera creature strewn across the tall draft horse's back. She presumed that her original weaving path racing through the trees and frozen icy lake was unsafe and would take more time. The castle lord creature however, had arrived in the nick of time to save her from the wolves. Belle reasoned he must have taken a faster and more direct path, so she followed the wide trail the creature had left in the snow.

The clear tracks led through a long stretch of thick close trees and broken brambles. She was thankful to step into the deep snow prints of the creature instead of having her stockings and flats get even more soggy and cold. The creature huffed and groaned with each step Philippe took. 

Soon, the tracks led to a wide expanse of open snow that lead up a very steep slope. Belle traveled sideways in a zig pattern, unsure of the footing on the high slope. Her legs burned as she plunged knee deep into the freezing high snow. They reached the top and Belle could see the light from the tall castle spires over the distant tree line. 

She glanced behind them and gulped in awe of the height they had just scaled. Belle could only guess how treacherous the slope would be without snow padding the rocky terrain underneath. She mentally noted that she would not want to do that again anytime soon. They continued on and she found the creature's deep wide tracks once more. Belle was shivering but glad that she was no longer plunging her knees deep into the icy cold snow. 

What seemed like an hour later, they reached the ornate castle gate and Belle saw it was left wide open. As they passed through the large gatehouse at the end of the stone bridge, the castle doors swung open. An ensemble of magic items waited for them in the warm light of the huge castle doors waving. 

"Hey there," Belle's teeth chattered as she shook the creature's cloaked shoulder. "We're here. Can you stand?"

The creature's head nodded, and he slid backwards off the draft horse onto his clawed fur covered feet. The snow that had accumulated on his cloak fell off. He was slouching but standing on his own. He clutched his right arm close to him, eyes shut tight in obvious pain. Streaks of the creature's blood-stained Philippe's golden coat. 

A wooden coat rack with a tricorne hat scrambled towards Belle and took Phillipe by the reigns. Belle assumed that he was a porter of sorts.

"Please, take care of Philippe," Belle pleaded. "He fell into the ice and needs warmth." The coat rack with a nose like wood burl silently tipped his hat and led Philippe away toward the stables.

"Come inside Mademoiselle!" Lumiere put his candle arms to his waxy mouth hollering in concern. 

Belle reached upwards to put her hand on the hunched creature's shoulder and gently urged him forward toward the castle steps. He huffed at each lumbering step at a time slowly.

"Oh no," Cogsworth rambled frantically. "Oh my, oh no, oh my! The Master is injured. The Master!"

"Up the stairs now," Belle stated softly. He slowly trudged up each step as Belle noticed her shivering subsiding. The creature was emitting so much body heat under his cloak, it was warming her. Still her feet and lower legs felt frozen from the damp snow soaking her stockings. 

"Oh my," Mrs. Potts gasped as they entered the lobby and the doors shut behind them. "Quickly, to the embroidery salon," Mrs. Potts clinked along the floor leftward towards a room. Lumiere stood in the doorway coaxing a fireplace to blaze brightly. Belle saw that Cogsworth's clock face appeared paler than usual as he stammered twisting his golden arms. She nudged the creature who nearly limped along. He plopped into a tall chair embroidered with colorful birds, hearts, flowers and more designs. His face was scrunched in a grimace, panting at the pain. Belle took off her cloak setting it on a nearby chair and sat next to the fire on the floor. She stripped away her damp flats and stockings placing them near the fire to dry.

"Tea love," Mrs. Potts urged as two teacups hoped to Belle and the creature. "The both of you!"

"Thank you," Belle smiled to the seemingly frightened teacup. "Don't you worry. It's going to be alright." The young teacup nodded and Belle downed the warm liquid. It tasted bold and spiced with cinnamon, cloves and honey. The creature drank his tea and continued to groan as magical folk muttered amongst themselves. They all stared onwards in helplessness and confusion scattered all around the room. 

_'They can't help him as they are,_ ' Belle noted. _'I suppose I'll have to bandage him up myself.'_

"Do you have bandages and ointments?" Belle asked the magic item staff.

"I'm afraid our ointments are limited," Cogsworth stated timidly. His face shook with a chime as his moustache like clock hands moved to the 10 o'clock position for a moment.

"Wait!" Belle exclaimed. "My bag… in the tower. Is it still there?

"It must be," Lumiere shrugged.

Belle huffed to stand up and slipped on her cold damp leather shoes onto her bare feet.

"Lumiere, please take me there. I don't know the way."

"Oui, Mademoiselle," Lumiere saluted and started hopping quickly out the door. 

"Wait a minute! I'm coming too," Cogsworth chased after him.

"Mrs. Potts, bring lots of hot water and towels and clean cotton bandages, please," Belle asked following after the golden candelabra and mantle clock man into the lobby. They ran up the grand staircase and up another flight of stairs. The two magic folk were starting to slow down and struggle with the pace down the corridors. Belle scooped them up, holding Lumiere by his base and putting Cogsworth under her arm. Cogsworth's gears rattled about as she held him under her other arm. Lumiere directed her to turn left. 

Reaching a familiar wooden door Belle set Cogsworth down fearing the climb with two items may make her lose her balance. She opened the door into the dark stony prison tower. Smelling the cold damp stones again, an anxious feeling turned in the bottom of her stomach. Belle took a deep breath and hurried up the long spiral of stairs. She reached the landing with Lumiere still aglow.

"Over there," Lumiere pointed to the entrance of the cell her father stayed in. It was the cell she thought she would be spending the rest of life in. Slumped against the open door was a canvas pack full of the emergency supplies she brought with the intent of rescuing her father on the road. Belle grabbed the bag and slung it across her chest. She raced back down the steps. She wanted to leave the bleak cells as fast as she could. Reaching the corridor, she picked up Cogsworth once more and ran back towards the embroidery salon. 

Entering into the salon and glancing at the creature, Belle noted that the bleeding from his arm and neck appeared to have stopped. Mrs. Potts oversaw the other magical objects streaming in with a gathered assortment of bandages, towels, and bowls. They gathered at the foot of the opposite chair looking concerned at their enormous Master. The horned castle creature was hunched over clinging his injured arm. 

Belle pushed back her loose hair from her face and slipped off her soggy shoes. She set them near the fireplace and knelt down next to Mrs. Potts. 

"Do you have the hot water?" Belle asked rummaging through the canvas emergency pack.

"Yes dearie," Mrs. Potts replied. Belle nodded, pouring the steaming water from Mrs. Potts into several bowls. She unwound a spool of catgut thread and a sharp curved needle, placing them within the hot water filled bowl. She felt the heat of the fireplace warm her cold red flushed legs and toes. It almost felt painful. She uncorked a glass of witch hazel from her pack and poured into another bowl.

"Your wounds need to be tended to," Belle announced, focused on soaking a towel into the hot water and witch hazel. "Or else they'll get infected." 

Wringing out the towel, she moved closer to the fur covered creature. His long pink tongue licked the bloody slashes reminding Belle of an injured dog. But Belle knew he had far more sense than a simple animal.

"Here now," Belle reached out for his arm. "Oh, don't do that." 

He pulled his arm away from her leaning further away in the chair growling.

 _'He's acting like a big baby,'_ Belle huffed frowning. _'This is ridiculous.'_

"Just ... hold ... still," she tried to maneuver cleaning his arm with the towel, but the huge creature squirmed about worse than a toddler. She had to clean the bloody slashes. Belle flattened the hot towel pushing it onto his wounds. The creature roared a thundering bellow at the ceiling in pain.

"That hurts!" he boomed, shouting into her face. Her hair flew back from his hot foul breath. She heard the clicks of porcelain, metal and wood as the magical folk backed themselves further away from their Master. 

_'He's scaring them,'_ Belle silently fumed. Seeing the creature in such a pained state had dissipated the fear she had of him. She was done with trying to be polite especially if he was going to behave so badly. Her courage surged on behalf of the magic folk.

"If you'd hold still it wouldn't hurt as much!" Belle shouted back. Her patience had worn out and she crossed her arms in frustration. 

_'Why am I even doing this?'_ Belle frowned questioning her good intentions. _'He saved me, and I brought him back. Who cares if he loses an arm or dies? He's being so rude behaving like this. He's the whole reason I'm in this mess.'_

"Well if you wouldn’t have run away, this wouldn't have happened!" The creature waved a clawed fuzzy finger at her.

 _'That's it._ ' Belle smacked the finger away from her face with the back of her palm. She wouldn't stand for his accusations.

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!" Belle retorted, waving the towel in his face angrily. The creature sat mouth gapping and appearing stunned. He sat blinking.

"Well you shouldn't have gone in the West Wing!" the creature crossed his arms and smirked. 

"Well you should learn to control your temper!" Belle stated, standing up and glaring at him at eye level. 

The creature opened his mouth again and raised his clawed finger. No words came out. He appeared stumped. Looking down at his knees, he rested his head on his uninjured hand looking at the door. 

"You're right," he pouted quietly. He appeared defeated and subdued by her argument. 

_'What is this?'_ Belle wondered pushing back her hair and kneeling back down. _'Androcles and the lion?'_

"Now hold still," Belle commanded, grabbing his arm. She moved the towel toward the injuries. "This might sting a little."

The creature grimaced, gritting his teeth growling as the wet towel dabbed gently at his forearm. Three of the slashes were wide and deep into the flesh. Belle noticed her presumption was correct and the chimera creature would need stitches. 

_'I wouldn't be alive wounds this deep,'_ Belle thought. _'If he wasn't there...'_

"By the way ..." Belle started, looking up at the creature. "thank you ... for saving my life."

The creature turned to face towards her. His blue humanlike eyes blinked in shock. There was no anger or fear in his hooked animal nosed face; only what appeared to be real surprise.

"You're welcome," he muttered in his low voice, nodding to her. Belle would normally try to smile but felt far too tired to feign emotions for the sake of politeness. After what she had been through in the forests, she found it unnecessary anyhow. Belle turned her concentration to the slashes. 

"I must stitch up your arm or else it will get infected," Belle stated, continuing to clean the wounds. 

"I'm not a shirt to sew," the creature grumbled grimacing. 

"More like leather," Belle remarked, noting the thickness of the chimera creature's flesh and fur. She reached for scissors and tweezers from her pack. The creature grumbled in agitation from her remark.

" Look," Belle stared at him, "if I don't do this the wound will fester and you may lose your arm to rot. I have dealt with wounded bones and injuries on my farm. I can do this."

The creature grunted.

"Fine," he mumbled deeply. "Proceed."

"Very well then," Belle stated, reaching into her pack. "I'm glad to see you have some sense about you." She opened another brown glass and poured a brown liquid into another small bowl. 

"Mrs. Potts, please, I'll need more hot water soon," Belle asked. 

"Yes, Miss," Mrs. Potts replied and she spoke softly to the magical folk. They began moving around again. Belle tore off a strip of cotton cloth and soaked it into the bowl.

"What is that?" the creature asked. 

"A grain alcohol tincture," Belle stated, pulling out the stained strip. "To prevent purification." She placed it gently onto the open wound and the creature growled and grimaced from the pain.

" What are you?" he winced and almost squealing. "A seamstress or a physician?"

"I am what I have to be," Belle held back a smirked, keeping the cloth in place. It seemed that it was true that the biggest men were the biggest bellyachers, even if they were chimera creature men. The creature wriggled his legs, grumbling and hissing through the pain as Belle counted down the seconds. 

"Done," she announced, pulling away the cloth. 

"Now, I'm sorry, but _**this**_ is the hard part," Belle apologized, drying off the needle and threading it with the hot damp thread. "Do you have any drinking spirits to numb the pain?"

"It doesn't work on me," the creature snarled, rolling his eyes. "Just do it."

"I'm sorry," Belle nodded emphatically. This would hurt a lot without some spirits. "I'll try to be quick. Here I go. Best if you look away." 

Clenching the skin together, she began to sew the flesh. Fresh blood oozed bright red and the flesh bruised a dark black around the punctures under the thick fur. Belle had to be cautious to not get the fur stuck into the wound. She had experience though from once before when a goat that fell from a high perch and tore up its belly on branches below. She sewed three neat lines of stitched flesh. Dabbing away the blood after finishing the final stitch, she decided to leave three other shallow scratches alone to heal on their own

The creature rocked back and forth a bit from the pain. 

"Mrs. Potts, " Belle asked. "Can we have some tea please?"

"Of course, dearie."

A little teacup hoped close to Belle and Belle picked him up and held him outstretched to the creature.

"Here you need to drink this," Belle suggested. The creature nodded and finished the tea in one swig. Belle took the teacup back and set the teacup down to hop back to Mrs. Potts.

"Almost done," Belle cooed, grabbing a salve from the pack. She applied it gently to the forearm wounds. Winding the bandage cloth around his fur covered forearms, she noticed just how large his human like the chimera hands were. She could wrap her whole hand around a single one his thumbs. They weren't quite paws, but muscular thick like the hands of a workman. His nutty brown fur covered his paw like hands save for the inside of his palm. The palms were calloused like a deep walnut stain but almost skin like. He had five fingers, like any person may, but where fingernails might start, retractable black claws emerged. Belle could only guess how long they went under the skin and fur. She remembered how those claws slashed, stabbing into the wolve’s flesh and felt slight awe that such a ferocious being was submitting to her care.

"Now, that was the worst," Belle stated, grabbing a fresh towel and dunking it into the witch hazel water. 

"Now let's see about that neck. Take off your cloak please. It seems like you don't need any stitches there," Belle stood up and observed his left side.

"Good," the creature huffed in relief, and stiffly removed his cloak letting it drop onto the floor. She stood and dabbed away the blood from the honey golden mane. She saw his muscular fur covered neck was wider than four of her hands. She noticed that there was a lot of blood in the thick hair like fur, but much of it was not his own. She was surprised how silky soft his long mane was. A deep red mark, however, stood out. 

"There is a deep puncture," Belle remarked as she soaked a cloth into the tincture. "Ready yourself."

She pressed it into the wound and squeezed the liquid disinfectant into the wound. The creature winced and wriggled his claws toes at the pain. Belle counted down the seconds and then moved away to grab the ointment. The creature gasped at the pain.

"You can't move around too much," Belle told him. " You'll need bed rest for several days until it heals more." Grabbing the ointment, she dabbed it to the neck wound. 

"I need you to sit on the floor to bandage that neck wound," Belle stated. The creature grumbled but moved to sit on the colorfully woven carpet. The magic folk still observed in the corners of the room, replacing the soiled bloody water with fresh clean hot water. 

Belle stood behind the castle chimera and realized the top of his horned head still came up to her shoulders as he sat on the ground. She was cautious to mind his twitching bushy tail as she inspected and cleaned the wounds on his broad soft fur back. It almost looked to her like the back of a very hairy large slouching bear or man. The wounds appeared to only be surface scratches which had stopped bleeding, but she still applied the ointment for good measure.

 _'Such a peculiar body,'_ Belle noted all the different animal aspects of the chimera creature. _'How did he come to be?'_

"You don't have to do that," the creature remarked quietly. "You may go."

"I don't abandon an incomplete task," Belle stated. She didn't want to appear that her work was sloppy. It just seemed cruel spirited to leave him injured in such a state especially when he had protected her from the injuries. He was behaving in a better manner now anyways.

 _'Besides,'_ she reasoned, countering her kindness with logic. _'I may have a better chance of negotiating my freedom if I heal him up well.'_

The creature sighed out in response. Belle moved to wrap a bandage around his wide tree trunk sized chest to his lower neck several times. As she moved about, she noticed some long scarring scratches on his strange canine but still human like calves. She didn't remember the wolves attacking his feet. 

"Are those older?" she asked, pointing and moving to inspect them. "What happened to your legs there?"

"Hunting," the creature grumbled as she knelt by his leg.

"When?"

"Last night."

"Hunting what?" Bells quirked an eyebrow wondering what could leave such a mark.

"A boar," the creature sighed. " I took it down. And a stag."

 _'He took down a boar, a stag and took on an entire wolf pack within a day?'_ Belle was shocked at such a feat. It usually took several men to hunt wild boar. Their tusks were viciously sharp, and they were known for their stamina. She then remembered her dinner earlier included some venison and ham. 

"Good Lord," Belle shook her head, applying ointment to his legs. "Have you no self-preservation?" 

"You're one to talk," the creature snorted. Belle scowled at him. She wrapped bandages around his fur covered canine-like calves.

"Well, it appears that these are healing well. Come on, all done," Belle stood up and wiped her hands on a dry towel. 

"You need to get bed rest," she announced. 

"It's fine," the creature groaned and slowly stood up. "You may go."

Belle rolled her eyes. She guessed in his state, he would probably collapse in the halls or decide to sleep on the floor by the fireplace.

"Not until I know you're safe in bed. Slowly now," Belle walked towards him. "Which way do we need to go?"

"Fourth floor. West Wing," the Beast grunted closing his eyes swaying a bit.

 _'Of course he lives in that morbid part of the castle,'_ Belle thought, noting that he may be nauseous.

"Tell me if you feel dizzy." Belle grabbed her canvas pack of emergency supplies and walked alongside the creature. Some of the magical staff followed behind worried about their master’s health. He lumbered up the grand staircase and then most of the magic folk dispersed. They moved down the corridor and up another flight of stairs. After making it up the flight, he then stood still. His eyes shut tight and he growled.

"What is it? " Belle asked. 

He continued to growl deep in his throat, furrowing his brow further. 

"Words please," Belle sighed, rolling her eyes. "I know you can use them..."

"Dizzy," the creature gasped. 

"Alright," Belle nodded. She set down her pack. Grabbing his uninjured forearm, she pulled him towards a bench in the corridor. "Let's just have you sit here a moment. Mrs. Potts- some ginger lemon tea please."

"Yes dearie," Mrs. Potts chirped. "Right away."

* * *

The Beast sat in the open corridor on a long silken upholstered bench. His head pounded. He shut his eyes tight fighting off the dizziness and blocked out the bright candlelight. He was used to injuries before, but these felt different. He had scared wolves away from his castle now and then, but fighting the entire pack drained him. Usually he was confident in the fast healing abilities that his cursed body seemed to have, but these injuries felt so much worse. Belle had expressed concern that he may lose his arm and he didn't doubt her. His forearm burned down into the bone with pain. His neck made his shoulder feel on fire and caused flashes of pain to shoot down his spine and tail. 

_'Why did I risk my life to save the peasant girl's life again?'_ he cursed himself for his current pain. 

He wished he was able to have some sort of alcohol before being prodded and sewn. He felt so incredibly nauseous and tired. And yet, he also felt strangely light. Belle's hands moved about his arm, legs and backs with nimble gentleness. Her touch felt so foreign and different, especially after years of being surrounded by cursed furniture servants. 

He heard a squeak from Belle, and she hissed sharply. Opening his eyes, he saw her hunched over holding her side.

He suddenly felt embarrassed. She had been so concerned about him. He was likely to survive his injuries even if he did lose an arm to rot. He hadn't realized she could be injured as well. His sensitive hooked animal like nose did smell her tangy sweet blood. Usually the scent of blood drove his senses mad with anger and hunger. But instead his stomach sank as he wondered if her injuries were from his fit. 

"What's wrong?" the Beast asked, hesitant of the answer.

"Oh," Belle winced. " Philippe threw me off into the snow. I had wind knocked out of me. I probably bruised a rib or two. I know I bruised my hip on a rock for sure and I got some scratches from trees and brambles too. I wasn't really wearing good riding gear. I'm starting to feel it now that the action is over," she laughed.

"So..." the Beast gulped. " I didn't hurt you?"

Belle started at him for a moment appearing somewhat confused.

"No," she slowly stated, smiling ever so slightly. 

He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding. Leaning his back against the cold marble wall, he gazed up aimlessly at the ceiling. The cold felt good against the wounds on his back. He couldn't help but see the girl stretching out of the corner of his eye. She reached her arms upward above her head and tilted backwards. With an exhale she twisted her torso to work out the kinks. He noticed how slender but muscular her arms were moving under her white sleeves. 

He thought it was strange that her shift sleeves were showing, but then again, what did he know about how peasant folk dressed. He was a bit surprised she hadn't worn one of the gowns in her apartments. He did say that the castle was her home now. That meant she could wear clothing in her chambers without special permission. Her waist was so small compared to him. He could probably fit her waist entirely in his twisted huge hand. And when she had yelled back at his face, damn, she looked so cute. Her round face was flushed with anger and courage. That was the face he had seen royal women make at other men who they knew were their equals. Her chestnut hair was loose and wavy from the damp snow. If he was the confident man he had been long ago he might have dared to kiss the that defiant beautiful face. But he was a disgusting monster in pain. He wouldn't dare try; it would only mortify her. Her bravery to touch and tend to his wound was enough for a gruesome like him. 

_'I don't get it,'_ the Beast felt confused. _'Why did she bring me back here? It makes no sense. She clearly wants to go home. She could have left me in the woods to manage on my own. She didn't need to tend to my wounds. She doesn't know that I'm royal. There's absolutely no benefit she can gain. And she thanked me for saving her? She's so confusing.'_

Belle winced again and coughed lightly putting her hand to her chest. 

_'Was storm air may have been too cold for her?'_ the Beast wondered. 

"Tea, loves," Mrs. Potts clinked along on a serving cart. 

"Thank you," Belle replied, reaching for a young teacup. She walked towards him balancing it in her palms. She held it out to him. In her slender hands it looked average. He reached for it and the cup looked like a child's toy. He downed the tea and set down the unnerved cup on the bench. 

Belle raised an eyebrow as she picked up his teacup. Smiling, she winked, tapping it playfully on its handle of a nose whispering _'good job'_.

"Only one cup?" she asked the Beast. She walked over to the cart and Mrs. Potts refilled the cup. "Perhaps you should have another given your stature? Are you not thirstier?"

Belle walked back to him and outstretched the teacup. It was awkwardly smiling. The Beast sighed and downed the cup again. 

_'Damn it,'_ the Beast cursed himself begrudgingly. _'She's right, I **am** thirsty.'_

"Take your time and have another," Belle suggested as she gathered another round.

He wanted to remark that she shouldn't order him around, but she was _still_ right. He was _still_ thirsty. He balanced the cup carefully in his hand and tipped the teacup slowly into his mouth several times. He wanted to sip, but he wasn't sure how to with his huge teeth in the way. And it felt like he had an audience with Belle around. He wasn’t used to that anymore. She was walking in the area with her own cup of steamy tea, staring at some painting. He noted she glanced at him from time to time. 

His dizziness was subsiding, and he set the teacup on the bench to hop along to the cart with Mrs. Potts.

"Well then, shall we carry on," Belle asked, setting the young teacup up onto the cart next to the other. They began to whisper to each other and Mrs. Potts turned to make their way back to the kitchen.

The Beast nodded and stood up. Resting _had_ made him feel less dizzy. They slowly made it up two more flights of stairs and veered leftward down the corridors with the white marble sconces. He tried to break those eerie magic hands several times before, but they wouldn't crumble like the other stone within the castle. Then again, they weren't part of the normal castle to begin with.

"Which way to your bed chambers?" Belle chirped.

"You were just in there," the Beast scoffed. _'How could she still be feigning ignorance?'_ he wondered. They moved in silence, turning down a dark corridor.

"The storage room?" Belle asked.

The Beast grunted confused by her statement. He looked at her and she had her knuckle against her chin in thought.

"Oh, I see!" Belle exclaimed. She looked up at him and smiled at the puzzle she had solved. "The storage room is actually your bedchambers. Is that why you were so angry? You know you should have told me."

He merely cleared his throat.

 _'How am I supposed to respond to that?'_ the Beast wondered. _'She really didn't know she was in my royal chambers.'_

They continued through the dim light and corridors of twisted statues until they reached his double doors with the roaring gold lion head handle. 

_'I guess it would look like a storage room to a stranger,'_ the Beast realized, opening a door and seeing all the tossed furniture inside.

"Hmm," Belle hummed. "Where is your bed?"

 _'Why the hell is she wondering about my bed?'_ he was confused glancing at her.

"It's collapsed," he stated.

"Oh umm," Belle started clearly perplexed. "Well, you need to sleep comfortably with your wounds. If you want to sleep in a different room... I'm sure there are plenty other bedchambers.." she trailed off lost in thought pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

 _'She's worried about my comfort?'_ the Beast was confused. _'Why? Unusual girl.'_

"Never mind," he stopped her, putting up a hand. "I'll lay on the chaise. Thank you."

"Alright then," Belle sighed in obvious relief. "I'll be back tomorrow to change those bandages. Don't move around too much or else your neck may grow worse. I'll make sure your servants come up with cold compresses to help with the pain."

"You don't have to," he grumbled. "You may go."

The thought of having her enter his room was frustrating. He would have to be careful of his every movement if she decided to come. He had told her she could leave in the forest. But she insisted on taking him back. He told her she could leave in the salon as she tended to him, but she insisted she finish dressing his wounds. He didn't have the strength to tell her what he meant. She could leave the castle as soon as the storm stopped. He was finding that the more times he told her she could go, the harder he was finding it to explain what he truly meant.

His stomach clenched as he prepared to tell her, she could go home tomorrow. Still he hesitated. 

‘ _She’ll be gone after that_...’ he thought reluctantly.

"Good gracious, you don't accept help well," Belle squeezed his uninjured forearm lightly. He inhaled sharply. He was not used to such casual touches, let alone human touch anymore. Although, he oddly didn't want her to let go.

"Listen-" Belle moved to stand in front of him and crossed her arms. "-you have injuries from saving me. If you hadn't arrived, I would be dead. So… let me make sure you are properly healed, alright?"

The Beast felt so tired. He wanted to tell her off. He didn't have the energy. What would he say anyways?

 _'Would I just tell her to get out again and scare her out into the storm?'_ the Beast wondered. _'Damn, I am a monster...'_

It was a loose-loose situation. There was no fighting her. She was too stubborn. He somewhat admired it. 

He grunted in agreement.

"Well then, goodnight," Belle nodded, uncrossing her arms. 

"G'night," he grumbled, slouching. He moving slowly into the dark bedchamber. He was so very tired....

"Oh! Wait a moment," she called out. "I just realized; I still don't know your name."

 _'My name?'_ he thought as his heart clenched.

He hadn't heard his name in what seemed like forever. The castle servants called him Highness or Master. Most of the royal court once referred to him that way as well. Not even lovers said his name. He remembered his name, but he despised it now. For years his father's voice had said it with disdain and disappointment dripping from his mouth.

The words of the enchantress's curse invaded his mind.

**_“Thou shall remain a beast for all time..._ **

**_….reflect thy true form.”_ **

_'It's too fitting,'_ he almost laughing out loud.

"Beast," he stated frankly.

"Huh," Belle raised her eyebrow in confusion. "I'm sorry, but I meant your real name please?"

"No, it's Beast," he looked down into her hazel eyes. "That is my true name."

"Oh?" Belle looked down as she twisted her fingers. She looked back up with a small smile. "Well, I didn't mean to offend you Beast. Thank you for telling me your name. I'm Belle," she nodded her head gesturing to herself.

"Yes, I know," he walked past her into the dark room. "It's no offense. Good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> If you live in the mountains or a northern climate with hard winters you know that some years snow can start stupid early or stupid late. Winter is weird. 
> 
> Historically, catgut thread was not actual cat gut but sheep intestines. It was used for surgical thread, violin strings and more.  
> Surgery also sucked horribly before general anesthesia, iodine and proper disinfectant regiments. Surgeons prided themselves with their bloody aprons and the knowledge that their skilled hands where bloody as well. Village and home remedies with tinctures and what was considered superstitious cleaning were sometimes safer practice that some medical practices. Ugh...leeches..🤢
> 
> Kudos to anyone who gets the shirt sewing reference. (You anime nerds you)
> 
> And yes there is a lot of tea, but water wasn't drunken that often due to concerns of the cleanliness of water. And one wants to keep their patients hydrated.
> 
> Anywhooo, hope you guys enjoyed that.  
> Till next time.


	17. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle tends to Philippe and finds the stables and pasture.

The large wooden doors of the Beast's chambers shut, and Belle was left to stare at the golden lion door handle. It remained silently fixed facing her with a roar. She sighed feeling achy and fatigued.

 _'So, his name is Beast?'_ she thought to herself. _'What mother would be so cruel? If you have a magic child, why not give it a fanciful name? Like the Minotaur? I suppose it's no matter. I need to see to Philippe.'_

Belle moved through the corridors and down the several flights of stairs. The candlelight of the castle illuminated the snowstorm that still raged outside. Belle knew despite her tiredness that she must check on Philippe. The beloved farm horse had been through so much stress that evening and throughout the week. He was bred for hauling and plowing, not racing. All the dashing through the mountain terrain could be harmful to the horse. 

Belle entered the embroidery salon to gather her cloak. The whole room had been cleaned, cleared, and empty of magical folk. She found her thin stockings drying by the fireplace and took off her flats to put them on. They were torn and snagged from the thorny forest brambles, but they warmed her ankles after being so close to the fire. She still couldn't find her cloak amongst the cozy armchairs and side tables.

Belle heard a tap at the door and turned around to see the coat rack with the velvety black felt tricorn hat. It had no visible eyes or mouth, but the wood burl was most certainly a nose and it seemed two other burls appeared to be expressive eyebrows. The magical coat rack extended an arm outward with her cloak on it. 

"Thank you," she said, taking it. The coat rack waddled back and forth moving the arms close to its main pole as if to mimic a worried person. The coat rack did not have a voice like the others but still seemed very human like. 

"Don't worry," Belle assured the magic coat rack. "I'm certainly not leaving tonight. Not with this snow. I just want to check on Philippe."

The coat rack mimed wiping away sweat from a brow. It gestured toward the castle entrance door and it's magical will power opened it. Belle thanked the coat rack man and moved outside into the cold snow. Ornate iron and glass lanterns hung on tall snow-covered posts. 

_'Lumiere must be working extra hard tonight to light up the outdoor castle grounds like this.'_ Belle thought. _'There are many more lamps lit compared to our return earlier.'_

She found a pathway had been shoveled slightly through the snowfall and made her way to the stable. She located Philippe in the same large stall. He had a thick blanket draped on him and his lower legs were wrapped in white wraps to support his joints.

"I see someone has seen to you," Belle smiled running her fingers through his creamy coarse mane.

"Do not fret Mademoiselle," she heard a male voice from above. "He is in good hands so to speak."

Belle looked around and found the source of the voice. Across the stall balancing on a stable pen door was a large iron horseshoe with a face like stamped indentations.

"Oh! Hello there," she smiled. "I'm Belle."

"Oui! We all know! I am Monsieur Chevvi; the trainer and farrier," the horseshoe wobbled. "Welcome to ze stables. It is quite good to care for a living creature again. Even though he is not a thoroughbred, he is magnificent and strong. You have taken good care of him."

"Thank you for seeing to him," Belle said starting to feel around Philippe's legs for possible pulled muscles. 

"Yes, yes," the horseshoe remarked. "It is good to check the muscles and tendons. I'm sorry I cannot do so as I am."

"That's alright," Belle smiled. "I wouldn't expect you to anyways. You shouldn't own a horse if you cannot care and connect with it."

" My sentiments exactly, however, many people unfortunately do not always agree. They just see zem as property."

"Well that is most certainly not the case for me," Belle scratched under Philippe's sleepy chin. She strapped reins and bit onto his head and walked him up and down the cobbled stable lane inspecting him for muscle tension. 

"You're in good shape," Belle led him back to the stall. She yawned and put her hands on her hips. "Everything is just fine. Now, where is some water and a brush to get you cleaned up?”

"Mademoiselle," Chevvi remarked. "He is in good care. I can take care of that tonight. I heard about what happened in the forest and you need your rest."

Belle nodded and gave Philippe some well-deserved pets. 

"It looks like you have all the feed and water you need. You're a good boy. Thank you for your help, Chevvi," she waved to the farrier horseshoe. "Good night."

Clutching her cloak about her, Belle noted that the snow had stopped falling. The wind however, gusted strongly swirling the snowflakes all around in the lamp lit night. 

Walking back to the castle, all Belle wanted to do was sleep. She guessed it was around midnight. She was not used to staying up so late since her farm chores often started before dawn. She entered the warm castle once more and started to make her way through the corridors to her chambers.

"Hello there, dearie," Mrs. Potts called out to her. Belle turned around and greeted the grandmotherly pastel teapot who was set upon a cart.

"Thank you for all your help,” Mrs. Potts remarked. “We were in a tight spot there with the Master"

"You're welcome," Belle yawned. "I wanted to mention that he'll need some cold compresses on those wounds to help with the pain."

"I agree with you dear, but I am also worried about you. Do you want a warm bath?"

"No not tonight, at least," Belle sighed. "I mainly need some sleep."

"Well I think a cup of hot cocoa before bed tonight ought to do you well."

"Yes, please," Belle smiled raising her shoulders at the prospect of a warm cup of creamy hot cocoa. "That would be marvelous."

"Well, then," Mrs. Potts began to control the cart down the hall. "I'll be up shortly then."

Belle continued upwards towards her chambers. For a moment, she regretted that her bed was so high up on the top floors. Entering her apartments, the footstool dog, Sultan barked feverishly. He was spinning in circles around Madam de la Grande Bouche.

"Ma cherie!" the Madame shrilled in concern. " Your stockings! My oh my! Are you alright? What happened?"

Belle plopped down in the pastel armchair by the fireplace and explained what happened from the dinner to the Beast's bedchambers and the forest. Mrs. Potts entered her chambers with some steaming hot cocoa in a silver cup and a tray of snacks. Belle was so happy the thoughtful teapot did, not realizing she had worked up quite an appetite. Mrs. Potts stayed to listen to the details as Belle continued on. 

"I'm not even sure if he needs my help with his bandages." Belle wondered out loud. "A magic creature like him should be fine without my help."

"I wouldn't say so," Mrs. Potts shook with disagreement. "The Master is the sort who would doesn't ask for help with matters of true pain or suffering. It was firmly 'educated' out of him to seek help."

"Oh, cherie," exclaimed Madame de la Grand Bouche. "but you decided not to leave then?"

 _'I did promise to stay forever,'_ Belle pondered silently to herself sipping on the cinnamon sprinkled hot cocoa. 

_'I thought I'd be back home by now but here I am: back at the castle after being chased by wolves._ _It's certainly not safe to leave during this storm. Those fits of temper are ridiculous, but Beast did calm down once reprimanded. And he seemed pretty regretful that I’m injured. I do think I can negotiate my way out of my promise eventually… and it's certainly not a terrible place to be for the moment."_

“I guess I'll stay..." Belle stated hesitantly. “at least for a little while. If your Master is as proud as you say he is, he'll probably rip his stitches out and injure himself further if I leave now. I did make a promise after all."

“I can't believe the dreadful night you've had dearie," Mrs. Potts lamented. "We were so happy to entertain a guest. We never guessed that you would have gotten lost in the West Wing."

"That's actually not true," Belle started setting down her hot cocoa. "I didn't get lost. It was like the magic spell was pulling me towards there with those white arm candles. It was so strange..."

Mrs. Potts and the Madame shared a look at each other.

"Oh....oh really cherie. That's erm.." Madam de la Grande Bouche sputtered.

"I'm sure you can't tell me about it and that is completely acceptable," Belle sighed and waved her hand. "I'm almost certain there may be something I'm supposed to figure out on my own."

"Sorry cherie," Madam de la Grande Bouche apologized with remorse.

"We’ll try to help best we can though," Mrs. Potts chirped. "But please be careful. Remember curiosity killed the cat."

"Yes, but satisfaction brought it back," winked Belle. She yawned and stood up. "I'm sorry but I must get to bed. It must be past midnight. Almost the witching hour."

"Oh no!" Belle realized putting her hand over her mouth. She had almost lost track of the days here in the castle. "It's the eve of Toussaint as well!"

"Erm, what cherie?" Madam de la Grande Bouche asked.

"You know," Belle gestured. "Toussaint is tomorrow. Tonight is the eve of All Souls Day? What do the English call it? All Hallows Eve? When allegedly spirits can roam the earth? I nearly forgot about it all with everything going on," Belle put her hands on her hips.

"Yes dearie," Mrs. Potts' eyes grew wide. "We English do call it that. Anyhow, it is time to get into bed. You need your rest. Ring the bell cord in the morning when you are awake so we can give you a nice warm breakfast." 

Mrs. Potts excused herself leaving the bedchamber. Belle prepared herself for sleep, undressing and changing into a clean shift that had been laid out. Crawling into bed, her aching muscles felt relaxed as the bed was again warmed from hot coal warmers. She smiled sleepily. Even though the castle wasn't her cottage home, it was comfortable and safe from the elements and Belle was glad for that.

* * *

Lumiere and Cogsworth waited anxiously in the corridor for Mrs. Potts to leave Belle's bedchamber. They had agreed long ago that the household superiors must keep good communication and be aware of all that was happening. They were the line of defense to keep everyone's spirits up and give them all some sense of purpose. It was the least they could do now that everyone’s lives were interlinked with the spell. They couldn't bear to see any of the staff do a harm to themselves, especially after a horrid incident. Long ago, a depressed pipe organ who once was a court composer, hurled himself off a landing and crashed downward onto the stone floor. It was a terrible day as the whole castle resounded with the sounds of groaning pipes, echoing their last sounds. 

It was forever ago, and the clean-up of the departed musician was slow. Ever since that day, the trio swore to be the guardians of everyone's hope so that such deadly despair wouldn't happen to anyone else. 

The trio hurried to another room, empty of any other staff. Mrs. Potts explained to Lumiere and Cogsworth of the details of what happened between Belle and the Master after dinner in the West Wing and forest. The candelabra and clockman listened intently.

"They call it Toussaint now?" Lumiere remarked.

"Instead of All Saints Day?" Cogsworth shook his head. "What has become of the Church?"

"More importantly," Mrs. Potts noted, "she can remember the amount of time she stays here."

"We should ask her about ze year," Lumiere exclaimed, his candles flaring brightly.

"But **if** we do, we may become frozen again," Cogsworth crossed his metal arms with a huff.

"And she might have a fright and leave again," Mrs. Potts bobbed in agreement.

"Oui, I see," Lumiere scratched his candlestick head. " Well, thank our lucky stars zat she did return."

"Indeed. If the Master had fallen, who knows what might have become of us," Cogsworth remarked solemnly.

"Yes," Mrs. Potts agreed. "We must all be very delicate about the situation."

* * *

The wolves were surrounding Belle in the forest snowfall. She held onto a branch firmly batting away the leaping beasts as best she could. Her legs sank thigh deep into the cold snow. Behind her she heard an awful roar echo through the trees. It vibrated their very branches with its mournfully tone. It was the worst thing she had ever heard. Squinting through the thick snowflakes, she looked in the Beast's direction where the roar had sounded from. The wolves attacked him further.

Belle felt the chilling snow raising upwards. It was waist high now. She realized she was sinking.

"Beast!" she called out, reaching towards him to help. He tried to turn but the wolves overpowered him. Even though his honey gold long mane blew in the wind, she was surprised she couldn't see his tall twisting horns.

The snow screened her view and the night made everything so very dark. The snow grew higher to her shoulders. She could hardly see him anymore through the wall of snow. His uncanny eyes glowed a bright blue and pierced through the snow. The wolves pounced onto the red cape and the snow engulfed Belle. She was sinking underground.

She held her breath as long as she could until all she could smell were roses.

"Roses?" Belle wondered. 

Opening her eyes Belle stood in a vast white space. She wasn't sure if it was a room or if the snow was just that thick.

 _'It can't be snow,_ ' Belle reasoned. _'Rose petals are falling.'_

Red rose petals fluttered down from above like apple blossoms in a spring orchard. 

She caught one ruby glowing petal cupping it in her hands.

Her heart ached with a wave of sadness. Tears streamed down her face instantaneously.

Someone was whispering:

_“reflect thy true form…..love another.”_

_“Love another…”_

Belle jolted up with a gasp. She looked around taking in her pale golden pastel room. It was bright with the morning light. Madame de la Grande Bouche remained lightly snoring in a corner of the wall. Sultan was curled up near her with its wooden feet tucked under himself. The red and gold footstool scratched at a tassel like a floppy ear and rolled over, sleeping on its back. Belle flopped back into the pile of plush pillows.

 _'Ugh,'_ she huffed to herself. _'It's just a silly nightmare.'_

Putting her hand to her forehead and wiping away her tears, she struggled to remember the details. She knew there was something about a face and some weird whispering. It was too late as wakefulness erased her dream. 

She stepped out of bed and rang the bell near her bed for breakfast. Cleaning herself up she noticed both her hip and ribs were splotched with purplish blue bruising from the forest. Small scabs littered her calves, but they no longer stung. She put on a dressing robe and slippers, opening the curtains to let in more light. 

The fog that had shrouded the castle the past few days now seemed to be subsiding. It appeared to her that the fog was caused by both the river far below the defensive ravine and the neighboring mountains. The snow glistened in the sunlit yard. She could see the snow-covered tops of castle walls outline the grounds and the evergreen hedges that twisted into maze like paths. Further in the distance the pine covered mountains were immersed in glimmering white snow. The bright blue sky was stark against the white domed mountain tops. It seemed like only white, grey, and blue existed in the world outdoors.

 _'This a sight for December, not November 1_ _st_ _,'_ Belle mused staring at the spectacular landscape. _'I hope this is not another year without summer. Papa and I left the city before the food riots, but those food shortage years were still tough.'_

She shook her head to dismiss those hard years. She had amply stocked the cottage cellar and pantries for two so Papa would not endure that hardship again this winter. And here in this castle, it seemed food was plentiful. She wondered if it was due to magic or the gardens. This place was strange, and its Master was far stranger _._

 _'At least I understand why he was so terrible about the rose,’_ she mused. _'How was I supposed to know it was his private chambers though? He really needs to communicate better. It's inexcusable especially since he isn't a dumb animal. He clearly isn't used to being scolded for rude behavior. That shocked look he had when I called him out on his temper gives it away._

_At least he saved me from those wolves in the end. I didn't know they were so aggressive in this area. I can't believe they attacked a sprinting horse in that horrible weather.'_

"Hello dearie," Mrs. Potts chimed rolling in on a serving cart with breakfast and silver cups of hot chocolate.

"Good morning," Belle greeted her and moved towards the fireplace. The footstool stretched out and bobbed up to Belle to get pets as it sat by her feet. 

"Did you sleep well?" Mrs. Potts asked as Belle buttered a scone.

"Well enough anyhow," Belle shrugged, taking a bite of the scone.

"Well, you ought to take it easy today and rest up some," Mrs. Potts suggested. "Can't have you catching a nasty cough."

"I will," Belle nodded in agreement. "but I must see to Philippe."

"I thought you might say so," Mrs. Potts moved from the serving cart to the floor. At the bottom of the cart was an unfinished cedarwood box. "Here are those winter boots dearie." 

Belle moved to open the lid off the box. Nestled inside of the wooden box and woodchips were knee high laced brown leather boots. 

"I'm sorry we couldn't get them to you yesterday," Mrs. Potts continued. "They were packed far away in storage. You could have gotten frostbite with the way you were traveling out there last night. Don't want that to happen. Give them a try."

Belle moved to grab the box and settle back onto the chair. 

"Oh, they're much too fine," she stated slipping them onto her feet and trying out the soft but sturdy laces.

"Nonsense dearie. You need them and they are at your disposal."

"Thank you," Belle smiled pointing her toes to admiring the shoes. "By the way, do you know what time is it? The sun seems to be near noon."

"Ought to be by now."

"Is your Master awake so I can change his bandages?"

"Gracious no, but his sleep habits are atrocious. Best to walk that horse of yours first. And maybe have the girls tend to a bath."

"That sounds good," Belle agreed, drinking her cocoa. 

Belle finished her breakfast and proceeded to dress. She remembered to tuck her thin shawl into her stays, fastened her cloak and with her new boots, she made her way out to the stables.

The snow had been shoveled off the stone pathways even more and it took Belle less than five minutes to arrive at the stable.

A pitchfork turning the hay in a storage corner bowed to her and he said hello as it passed by.

"Ello Mademoiselle!" Chevvi called out to her. 

"Bonjour Monsieur Chevvi," she greeted him. He was at Philippe's pen and magically willing a brush through the draft horse's coat. 

"The good boy has had his grains, water and most of his salts already today. And his coat is dry- one hundred percent.”

Belle ran her fingers through Philippe’s coat and nodded. The horse was warm and dry. 

"That's a relief. I was worried the ice water might linger. Is there a pasture on the grounds?" Belle put a bridle and reins onto Philippe. 

"Yes Mademoiselle. It is up the lane and to the eastern grove. If you will permit me, I can escort you. I'll have the stable hands out some hay out for him too."

"Perfect. Thank you. He needs to fatten up a little more. This snow moved in so fast and his winter coat isn't thick enough yet."

The horseshoe moved to balance on Philippe's back and they left the stable. They walked down a long gravel lane bordered with snow covered cedar trees for nearly a half mile. It led in through a grove of tall snowy trees and then towards a gated pasture. White covered trees lined the edges of the pasture as it was clear that the thick mountain forest began at the edge of the castle grounds. The field included a small roofed area in case a horse may need shelter from rain or sun. 

Belle let Philippe loose without a bridle or reins into the white sparkling fenced field. His cream-colored tail swished on the surface of the tall fresh snow and he began to explore. Belle spotted a water pump nearby with a tin pail and worked to fill the empty water trough. After three dozen trips she worked up a sweat. A hay filled wheelbarrow arrived rolling along the shoveled path with a pitchfork. In the sunlight she could see the wheelbarrow's facial features rusted out and the pitchfork's etched features as well. They emptied out the contents into a feeding trough. Belle rested against the tall wooden fence post watching Philippe happily nibble on the extra hay. She started to shiver a bit as her hard work turned into cold sweat. 

" Mademoiselle," Chevvi spoke. " Do you not need to go back inside? It is cold and we can handle the elements better."

"That's true although, I feel bad leaving Philippe in an unfamiliar pasture."

"We'll keep an eye on him Mademoiselle. Go back inside before you catch cold in that dress."

Belle nodded. This was a dress suitable for a chill autumn day but not the cold of winter. If she had different winter undergarments, she may be warmer, but the Madame had only just measured her yesterday.

"Thank you. I'll return to walk him back to the stable later."

By the time Belle reached her chambers she was glad Plumette and Fifi had started a warm bath for her. The warm steaming water felt good on her purple bruises. The feather duster twins fussed again as she soaked in the stone tub. She finished her bath and they asked her if she wanted anything else, so she requested some hot water with lemon and honey. She moved to sit by the fire to dry her hair and read Romeo and Juliet for the sixth time that week. Sultan had run off somewhere in the castle and Madame de la Grande Bouche was lost to sleep. Belle was convinced she the magic armoire did have a sleeping condition. 

"Hi ya Belle!" Chip greeted as he rolled in on a cart with Mrs. Potts. 

Belle greeted them sipping on the hot honey lemon water. 

" I'm sorry I won't be able to play with you today Chip."

"That's okay. Momma said that you had a very scary night last night. The Master saved you from wolves and you saved him from the snow. That's so amazing! You're a real live hero!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Belle giggled. "I was only doing the right thing."

"Oh but-"

"Shush now." Mrs. Potts cut the teacup off. "Let the Miss drink her lemon tea. She needs her health, love."

“Okay,” the little teacup pouted.

"I should feel better tomorrow though,” Belle smiled. “How about we play right after breakfast?"

"Yes pleeease!" Chip bounced.

"By the way love," Mrs. Potts started. "Dinner will be in the Emerald Hall again."

Belle thanked them and finished her honey lemon tea. As the two left, Belle returned to the book. She found her leg bounced in irritation at Tybalt's antics and set the book down to look about the room. Glancing at the well-blended panel door, she realized she had yet to discover what other two rooms the concealed antechamber held. Feeling her slightly damp hair, she decided it was dry enough to move about the castle. Walking into the antechamber of white marble and mirrors, she opened one of the center doors. 

Within was a small study with an elegant scroll desk and a cabinet for papers. The desk faced the wall so the writer may look both towards the door to the right and out the window on the left. She saw a quill, inkwell, and a stack of empty parchment lay at the read on the desk. Picking up the ink glass, she saw that it was still wet and able to use. Closing that room, Belle opened the next door which revealed an even smaller room. There was a sitting couch and two small chairs. She presumed it had been a personal salon for private conversations.

Pleased with her discoveries, Belle returned to her bedchamber and dressed back into her garments. She tied back her hair and grabbed the emergency pack from her room. Lighting a candle on a flat candle holder, she took it with her making her way down the bright corridors toward the dark West Wing. Some of the unnerving marble arm sconces were lit but most were not. With her own candle she was able to see that there were many heavy curtained windows behind the grotesque statues. She arrived at the large wooden doors with the roaring lion handle and the eerie cloak sentry like statues. 

In front of the door rested two trays on the floor. One was covered with but smelled of food and another had a pile of floppy leather cold compress pouches. Belle knocked hard on the large doors. There was no answer.

Belle knocked again

"Hello???" She called out. "Beast. It's Belle."

Still there was no answer.

 _'Is he ill?'_ she pondered looking at the untouched trays. She recalled Mrs. Potts words about his pride. ' _That could be why he isn't answering? I suppose it would be alright to go in then.'_

Belle heaved open a door and saw the room was pitch dark. She scanned the room with her candle but gave up on trying to find the Beast in the dark mess of furniture.

 _'I know there was a windowed balcony,'_ she remembered walking further in. She saw a glint of golden light try to escape the dusty damaged curtains. Belle set down her candle and pulled the curtains open. Light streamed in from the late afternoon sun. She opened the several other curtains, as the warm light felt good on her skin.

A deep moan bellowed out. She spun towards the noise and saw the Beast. He was curled up on a long wide chaise clutching his face in pain.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not horse people, but growing up in the US Midwest I went to school with my fair share of horse girls. So there were questions that always arose during Disney movie nights- where is Philippe's stable? Who is feeding him? Brushing him? Making sure his water doesn't freeze? Making sure his coat is thick enough for the cold. Who is cleaning up the droppings? Who is cleaning him when he decides to be a silly horse and roll around in some mud? Are his hooves getting trimmed or are his feet hurting after a winter of no trims? You know, normal 10yr old questions. 
> 
> So I added some stable folk based on what is shown during 'Human Again. 
> 
> Fun facts:  
> 'The Year Without a Summer' was caused in 1816 caused by a massive Indonesian volcanic explosion that altered weather patterns and ruined crops for years worldwide. Historical farmer logs describe unsual frosts and snowfall June and August that year. Other volcanic activities throughout the early 1800s caused decades of unstable crops and deaths attributed to starvation and disease.
> 
> For unfamiliar readers, La Toussaint also replaced the Catholic All Saints Day/All Hallows Day on November 1st since the general French public option regarding the church was unfavorable in the early 1800s. This is followed by All Souls Day on November 2nd to honor the deceased. The United Kingdom primarily celebrated All Hallows Eve or Halloween in festivity form that US folk are familiar with. There, the Celtic traditions of Sahmain were adopted by the church in those areas. It is also celebrated as the New Year of wiccans where blessings from spirits are prayed for and magic is considered strong as the cycle from darkness to light renews.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope to update again within the month.


	18. Bats, Bones & A Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle tends to the Beasts injuries and goes about castle life befriending Chip and Madame de la Grande Bouche further.

A bright light shone through the Beast's closed eyelids and a sharp stab drove at his skull. He curled in pain from the headache, groaning on the long chaise. His arm and neck ached terribly.

 _'Why are the servants here?_ ' he wondered.

"Lumieeere!!!" the Beast snarled. "Dim your damn lights!"

"It's not Lumiere," Belle stated. "It's me."

Beast brought his paw like hands away from his face. Squinting into the blinding sunlight, he saw the girl standing by his balcony in her blue country dress.

"Are you unwell?" she stepped cautiously towards him.

 _'She's actually here,'_ the Beast blinked in shock. _'In my chambers.'_

"What are you doing here?" he rasped.

"I told you I was checking your bandages today," Belle moved closer to him. "-and you didn't answer the door. I thought you might be ill. There were all of those cold compresses and food by the door," she gestured. 

"Let me see," Belle moved closer and put her hand up to his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

His eyes went wide and his stomach twisted in knots. Here he was lying in his bedchambers, bare chested save for the bandages with this bold girl touching him- a monster! Again! He held his breath afraid of frightening her away, inhaling her strong scent of lemon and rose.

"Well you don't have one," Belle smiled and stood up straight and tall.

The Beast exhaled and flipped over turning away from her. 

_'It's too much,'_ his tail swished uncontrollably _. 'She's here again in my bedchambers. And she's just trying to help. One wrong move and I might hurt her.'_

His head felt tingling and light where her hand had rested. He almost wanted her hand to rest on his head again.

 _'She just checked for a fever you fool,_ ' he scolded himself groaning.

"Are you in pain?" Belle asked with concern.

"No," the Beast embarrassed by his thoughts.

"Really?" Belle asked skeptically, crossing her arms. "Then why the melodramatics?" 

The Beast growled and curled up further. He wouldn't dare explain his thoughts.

"The cursed light is so bothersome," he partially fibbed.

"Hmm," Belle pondered. "Are you nocturnal?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned, rolling back to face her.

"A creature of the night?" Belle continued on. She pushed a strand of warm chestnut hair out of her face and placed her hand on her chin in observation. "Like an owl or a bat? Their eyes are different though." She moved in closer to see his strange human like blue eyes. "Your pupils don't appear to be like theirs."

"My pupils?" he sputtered, sitting up. She was moving closer again. She wasn't afraid of him. It was bewildering. "You're speaking like a scholar. Why are you so prying?"

"When else am I going to be able to ask questions to a mystic being in an enchanted castle?" Belle shrugged. 

"So, you're meddlesome," his ears dropped with flat annoyance.

"Hmm...I prefer to call it inquisitive," Belle crossed her arms tilting her head. 

The Beast laughed loudly.

 _'Audacious girl,'_ he thought. _'She's actually joking.'_

"Well, I am no bat," he gestured to his arms. "See no wings. And fine, yes, I am in some pain. I can manage though."

"Well Monsieur Beast, the care of those wounds matters more than your ability to 'tough it out.' Let me see to them," Belle took off her canvas pack and opened it up.

The Beast leaned back onto the chaise, anxious of the pain that might await him this time. Belle unwrapped his arm bandages first and began to clean off the crusting ointment. The stitched skin beneath the fur was a blackish bruised.

"You ought to have used those cold compresses if you do want to aid the pain," she informed him. "You have bruising that could have been halted if you used them." 

The Beast made a low grumble deep in his chest. Last night he felt so tired there was no way he was moving at all. 

"Hey," Belle squinted, noticing his large lower lip pouting out like a petulant child. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Doctor's orders."

She applied fresh ointment and wrapped up his huge arm once again. Having him move to the floor; Belle sat on the chaise to inspect his neck. She was pleased to see despite some normal discharge there was no infection. Bandaging his neck and chest, Belle noticed he wriggled far less today. Indeed, besides the pain in his neck and forearm, the rest of his muscles only felt only a little sore. Belle stood up and walked to the chamber doors to grab the food tray and cold compresses. She set the food on the ground.

"I'm going to put these out on the balcony to freeze again," Belle explained as she opened the glass door, setting the leathery pouches outside.

"Have you eaten today?" she nudged over a broken chunk of wood near the chaise and turned a side table right side up. She walked along, setting the food tray atop of it. The Beast moved to sit back on the chaise kicking away the remains of pale claw-like bones on the floor.

"No," the Beast rubbed his brow with the headache still strong. 

"Well come on now. It's nearly dinner. You need strength to heal," Belle remarked taking off the silver dome cover. "Looks like there is a hearty meat stew and bread prepared. The chef used the perfect healing herbs for the concoction." 

"Healing herbs?" the Beast's eyes went wide. "Is it witchcraft?" He had heard tales of witches using herbs to make their spells long ago and he had more than enough magic to last a lifetime already.

"Ha! Hardly!" Belle giggled. "Rosemary, garlic, bay leaf- these are all great for fighting fever."

"Oh...." the Beast looked down embarrassed by his fear. "is that so."

"Yes. Besides, aren't you a magic creature? Why would witchcraft bother you?"

"I'm not magic," the Beast growled. "Just...cursed."

"You can't cast spells like a wizard or will objects around like the staff?" Belle asked with caution. 

"No," Beast glared at his knees, gripping the sides of the chaise. His heart raced with the hatred of the enchantment that destroyed his life. He took a deep breath realizing how fearsome he might appear to Belle. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her. 

"I'm sorry. I meant no offense," Belle leaned over, gently rested her hand on his uninjured shoulder. 

He blinked astonished; she was touching him again. 

"I read about using herbs and plants," Belle stood up quickly, trying to change the subject. "- for medicinal purposes in a general remedies encyclopedia back in my village. It was so interesting about the different uses of roots and flowers. Just like white willow bark can be used for pain relief. Or Jesuit's bark from the New World. That heals malaria from mosquitoes. It's remarkable. I'm sure there are hundreds of undiscovered plants and animals still out there in the great wide somewhere. Can you just imagine?"

"I suppose one should endeavor to keep their mind keen," the Beast remarked. He was surprised that a peasant girl knew how to read and seemed interested in it.

"I agree," Belle smiled. "People in my village tend to disagree though. They say I'm wasting my time."

"Seems like they're fools," the Beast took hold of the large bowl and sniffed at the soup. Venison, carrots, beans floated in the thick broth.

"So are the vegetables magical?" Belle asked.

"Huh?"

"I'm curious."

"I don't know," the Beast furrowed his brows in mistrust. 

_'Am I eating magic food?'_ h _e_ wondered. He pondered it a bit more and felt his mind unfolding as he remembered a conversation.

"They come from the glass gardens, I think Cogsworth told me," the Beast explained.

"Interesting," Belle remarked moving toward the balcony. As she grabbed the leather pouches of cold compresses, the Beast lapped up the soup quickly with his long tongue. He knew it was undignified, but he was so hungry. He had bent so many spoons he had given up on them long ago.

Belle walked back towards him, surprised at how he wolfed down the stew.

 _'He's eating like an animal,_ ' she scrunched up her nose. _'He has hands. Is he really that hungry?'_ She lingered back for a moment as he finished, and she picked up a napkin from the tray. He was licking the bowl like a child licking the last of a pudding.

"Um, here," she held out the napkin.

"Thank you," his eyes grew wide with embarrassment. He scowled slouching over to wipe away the splattered stew in his beard like fur around his mouth. Belle looked away at the spectacular view from the balcony windows. The sun now shone a reddish hue making its way behind the mountain tops.

"I'm glad you ate and are healing properly," Belle placed the compresses on the small side table. She gathered up her pack and candle. "I need to go see to Philippe before dark."

"Philippe?"

"My horse."

"Well, you may go," the Beast started. His voice caught in his throat.

 _'If she goes now, I'll be alone forever,_ ' his mind voiced pitifully. His ears began to feel fuzzy and ring. 

"Alright then," Belle started to walk out the room. "Rest up. I'll see you tomorrow."

His heart pounded heavy in his chest. He had to explain. The door shut as he reached out for her. 

"Damn coward," he cursed at himself, covering his face to block out the light.

* * *

 _'That was unnerving,'_ Belle sigh with relief as she shut the huge door behind her. She walked along the dark West Wing corridors towards her apartments. _Especially with all those bones? There's so many! I know he mentioned his hunts but it's like a taxidermist storehouse._

 _At least he wasn't behaving senselessly. If anything, he actually seemed a bit sad when I mentioned magic._ _I'm surprised that the lord of a magical castle can't cast spells, but he did mention a curse._ _Strange...the other magic folk are clearly worried about freezing up when they speak of magic. Not unless he chose his words more deliberately?'_

Arriving at her apartments, she greeted the Madame armoire and set down the pack and candle. Putting on her high boots and cloak she went back outside to gather Philippe from the pasture. By the time he was settled into the stable with Chevvi and the stable hands, Belle felt famished. She entered the castle where Lumiere and Cogsworth awaited her in the Grand Lobby. The coat rack took her cloak as the clock man and candelabra escorted her to the Emerald Dining Hall. Belle thought it a bit absurd to have such a large candlelit room to dine in all alone, but she was more than happy to not be preparing the meals herself.

As the first course of a soup tureen waddled onto the table, Belle saw the harpsichord and the coat rack with a viola in hand enter through another door.

"Buongiorno, signorina," the elegant harpsichord greeted. "We will provide your entertainment for this evening."

"Bonjour," Belle greeted back. "That would be lovely....Monsieur...?"

"Maestro Cadenza, Bella. And this is Monsieur Chapeau."

"I'm so glad to know both of your names," Belle smiled. "The musical performance last night was wonderful. "

"Grazia mille, signorina," the harpsichord seemed to smile with its wide keyboard. "Happy to meet your satisfaction. If we may, we shall be delighted to play a duet of my own composition in A minor; an adagio ma non tanto e dulce, an alle breve, et un affettuoso et finished with an allegro. Uno, duo, tre.."

They started up a melody and played as Belle continued to enjoy her dinner of a venison stew, squash tarts, a boar dish and a sweet pumpkin pudding. The music seemed to echo and bounce back and forth from the harpsichord to the viola like a conversation of scales. Belle clapped as they finished their piece, excusing themselves with a bow. All the dishes cleared themselves away on rolling carts and Belle followed them. She walked to the kitchens and popped her head in through the swinging doors. Many plates and cookery were cleaning themselves orderly in a sudsy tub with a water pump.

"Excuse me! Thank you for the meal everyone," Belle announced waving her hand. "It was delicious!"

"Thank you, mademoiselle!" a large stove top oven's copper ornament eyes gleamed. His burners flared high with pride and the some of the pots and pans wiggled with joy. As Belle walked away down the hall it seemed the kitchen was noisier than before.

"Erm, Mademoiselle!" Cogsworth called out catching up with her down the hall. Lumiere also bounced behind. "You need not thank the kitchen staff yourself."

"It's alright. The meals have been delicious."

"Oh but it is not proper for a guest to..."

"For a person to thank chefs for a decadent meal?" Belle cut him off. "No, everyone deserves to hear well deserved praise and encouragement from time to time. It doesn't seem like you folks have received it in a while. And that includes you too Cogsworth. You are doing well at managing a tight effective shift, but you need not fret too much. It looks like you and everyone else is doing their best."

"Mademoiselle," Cogsworth twiddled his bronze handles like hands searching for words.

"We enjoy serving you the finest quality," Lumiere put candle-hand on the clockman's shoulder.

"And it is splendid work," Belle smiled. "Please don't overwork yourselves on my behalf. I don’t need musical performances at every meal or such an extraordinary dining room all to myself. I don't intend to offend if that's the way things run around here, but there is no need to go overboard on my behalf."

"Mademoiselle, it is our pleasure to entertain you with every dish and performance that we can," Lumiere said.

"Indeed," Cogsworth agreed. "Believe us, our staff are capable of hosting hundreds of people. We are not overworking ourselves at all."

"But thank you for your concern on our behalf," Lumiere smiled. "It is so very thoughtful." 

"You're more than welcome," Belle nodded. "Well then, bonsoir."

The candelabra and mantle clock wished her goodnight as she headed down the corridors towards the stairs.

"She really is something," Cogsworth marveled as Belle turned a corner out of sight.

"Oui," Lumiere agreed. "Not a greedy bone in her body."

"When she called out in the kitchens, I thought it was her Highness again."

"Oui, mon ami. She did do that when she first arrived here."

"I truly hope this girl doesn't meet the same fate."

"No, we must believe ze Master is a better man than his father. Deep down we know he is."

* * *

"How was dinner?" Madame de la Grande Bouche trilled as Belle entered her chambers.

"It was marvelous. Maestro Cadenza and Monsouir Chapeau performed a lovely duet,” Belle sat by the fireplace.

"Oh! Mi Amore! Is he not a spectacular composer and musician!”

"You are lovers?" Belle asked bewildered. She was confused how it could be possible for a harpsichord and armoire to have affections, but she recalled that the two feather dusters had their hearts set on a candelabra.

"Si si. But I miss him so. It is molto difficile to see him. This floor is my assignment position and there are many flights of stairs between us. We are both such awkward shapes we cannot move through the castle without risking breaking a something. E triste."

"Oh Madame! I'm sorry," Belle patted the amoire's handle comforting her. "That is terrible."

"It is alright," Madame sniffled. "Our music can still reach one another and our petite doudou Sultan sends our love to one another."

Belle wanted to ask more questions, but she didn't want Madame to freeze again. Instead she described the music to the magical amoire who gushed over with questions about octaves, tonality and rhythmic inflections. Belle did her best but apologized explaining she was not well trained in music. 

"That is alright. I can hear the music with what you described," the Madame smiled. "La la la Laaaa!" 

"That sounds like the viola part," Belle nodded. "His sounded more like- la la lala Laaa la Laaa."

"Oh petite bella!" the Madame trilled. "Your voice is lovely!"

"Thank you," Belle blushed. "My Papa had me in vocal lessons when I was very young. But I had to stop when our fortunes changed."

"Tis a pity," the Madame tutted. "But it sounds like your notes are still clear. A mezzo soprano perhaps?"

"Frankly, I don't know," Belle shrugged. "I'm not familiar with operas and theater. I just sing to myself or at church."

"Well keep practicing as you have. A good voice is a rare talent."

The Madame fussed over the footstool dog as is circled about her and Belle excused herself to the antechamber. Entering the study with a lit candelabra and the bible in hand, she sat at the desk. Belle was determined to write out a calendar to keep track of the days. 

"Thirty days have November,

April, June, and September.

With 28 there is but one.

All the rest have thirty-one."

Belle recited the old rhyme and took quill to paper to draw out a calendar for November.

 _'Today is Toussaint,'_ Belle crossed off the first day, _'and tomorrow is All Souls Day.'_

_'I wonder... if a magic castle can exist, then maybe it's possible that the legends are true. Maybe the deceased souls and unearthly forces can wander the earth on the eve of Toussaint?'_

Belle opened up the Bible and began jotting down notes so that she could tell a simpler story of Daniel and the Lions to the teacup children. Her mind wandered, doubting that devils could truly walk the earth like she was told a child by her sisters and their old housemaid. However, after encountering so much magic, Belle did wonder if magical forces might grow in strength on All Hallows Eve. She hadn't prayed homage to the saints, but she decided she would make sure to pray in the chapel for All Souls Day tomorrow. It seemed more appropriate to remember those that passed on anyhow. She reasoned if there were saints, they were probably too busy to listen to every single prayer and wouldn't be offended by a country girl forgetting hers. Belle left the papers to dry on the desk and went to prepare for bed. 

* * *

The next morning, Belle rose at sunrise and moved Philippe out to the wintery pasture. Walking back to the castle, Lumiere called her to come inside for breakfast from a stony side entrance. She went through the snow-covered hedgerow to the castle side door. It led almost immediately to the Emerald Dining hall where Chapeau took her cloak. She sat down to porridge and eggs taking in the view of the wintery courtyard. The dining hall curtains were wide open displaying the highly stacked snowfall on the winding ornate shrubs. Belle guessed it must have snowed two hands high overnight.

"Good morning Miss," Mrs. Potts rolled in on her cart with Chip. "Care for a cup on strong tea."

"Good morning. Yes, thank you," Belle agreed.

"And would you like your toilette this morning?"

"Sure. Is it possible to do right before lunch? I would rather try to keep Chip occupied this morning."

"Of course, love," Mrs. Potts smiled eying a wiggling Chip with his wide grin. "I also heard you want to read to the others too."

"Yes," Belle nodded. "I would be more than happy to read to them tonight. Could I do so in the embroidery salon?"

"Yes, Miss that would be lovely," Mrs. Potts bobbed. "A nice bedtime story for them."

"When does the Beast wake up?"

"Well, he is the Master, and so it is on his whim."

"You mean whenever he pleases?"

"Yes, my dear."

"I suppose I'll try to see him after lunch then," Belle finished her breakfast and her black tea. "Well, Chip how about we play some hide and go seek in the lobby. The castle is very big, and I don't want to get lost yet."

"Can I really Momma?" Chip asked Mrs. Potts. 

"Of course, love," Mrs. Potts gave him a peck. "Do be careful. No running."

"Yippee!" Chip jumped and wiggled. Belle reach out her hands and he hopped into them. She walked out to the Grand Lobby. The emerald and cream marble reflected the morning sunlight streaming in revealing many more colors and hues in the stone. 

"What would you like to play first?" Belle asked. 

"Can we spin?" he chirped. 

"Can we?" Belle held the teacup outstretched in her hands and spun in dozens of circles. Chip giggled and squealed. Belle kept her head focused on the stairs as she changed directions and spun the other way.

"Should I stop?" Belle asked.

"No. Again, again!"

Belle spun around again until even she felt dizzy. She suggested they stop for now as Chip teetered in her hand with his eyes rolling around. She proposed they play hide and go seek in the lobby and he was thrilled. 

"Okay! I'll start! Try to find me!" Chip bounced out of her hands and Belle closed her eyes beginning to count down from ten. Belle found Chip hiding behind a marble bust within an alcove crevice. 

It was then her turn to hide. Unfortunately, Belle found it much more difficult to hide since she was human sized, not a teacup. She did manage to hide behind a long window drape. Chip then hid inside a vase which was difficult to seek out even for Belle. Belle tried to hide behind a lobby couch but was found with ease. She then had even more difficulty seeking out Chip, but Sultan entered the room and began sniffing around the couch. Belle looked and Chip had hidden himself under a throw pillow. She spun around with Chip again until even she was dizzy. 

"Excuse me Mademoiselle," Cogsworth interrupted. "Your toilette is ready."

"Thank you," Belle giggled, setting Chip down on the floor. 

"Thanks for playing Belle!" Chip beamed. "That was so much fun. Can we play tomorrow too?"

"If it's alright with Mrs. Potts, we'll play right after breakfast again," Belle nodded.

"YAY!" Chip hopped and wiggled.

"Now young man," Cogsworth lectured. "-we need to mind our duties and manners too. You must go see to your mother in the kitchens."

"Okay sir," Chip bobbed seriously and then hopped away down the corridor towards the kitchen. "Byeee!"

"Cogsworth, I do actually have a favor to ask," Belle started. "Today is All Souls Day and I would like to pray a bit in the chapel this evening. Is that alright?"

"Indeed, Mademoiselle. That would be splendid."

"Could you please have Lumiere leave a candle or two in the chapel then so I can honor my family please."

"Yes, yes, of course. I will have him do so."

Belle thanked Cogsworth and made her way to her chambers again. Fifi and Plumette had her soak in a bath without washing her hair. They told her hands were greatly improving and Belle shrugged not minding the softness to her skin that she noticed as well. After getting out of the bath, she found lunch had been brought up to her by Mrs. Potts. Dressing and eating, Belle gathered her supplies and headed to the West Wing, ready to see the Beast once again.

* * *

The Beast stood on the open balcony letting the cold air into his bedchamber. He walked inside taking a yellowing ribcage and chucking it off into the air. It fell far below into the snow clattering loudly atop a tall pile of bones. He turned back inside and grabbed a white skull of a deer. The Beast walked back onto the balcony and threw that as well. 

That afternoon, he awoke to the bright sunlight pouring in. The curtains Belle had opened the day before exposed the wreckage of furniture and animal remains that littered his chambers.

"This is a place for a monster, not a girl to visit," he had growled scolding himself.

_'Do you see what happens when you lose your temper? This ruin? She nearly got herself killed in the forest all because you frightened her with your rage.'_

He made up his mind to get rid of it all immediately, starting with the piles of bones. One by one, he took a ribcage, a spinal column, a leg, a skull; he took it all and threw it outside. He didn't know how many chalky bones we had thrown down into the snow.

"Stop that!" Belle yelled, clapping loudly. The Beast turned around to see her storming into the room up to him. 

"What did I say about moving around? Sit down right now."

The Beast snorted, but realized he was panting. His arm and neck were burning horribly. He had become so focused on the task he hardly noticed. He dropped a long white leg bone onto the floor.

Closing the large glass door behind him, the Beast trudged over to the chaise. Belle worked quickly to unwind the bloody bandages on his arm and chest.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Belle hissed dabbing away the bloody discharge with a towel.

"Disposing the filth," he grumbled.

"Why don't you have the staff take it away? They can do that for you."

"Do you see the furniture," he gestured to the room. "What if I do that? My temper..."

Belle frowned, staring at his large arms waving as she leaned back. She held the towel close to her chest with both hands.

 _'You're raising your voice you fool!'_ he realized. _'You're going to scare her.'_

"I don't mean to," Beast sighed, he balled his hands into fists. "It's just.. grrrraaa! Never mind." He flopped back on the chaise to stare at the cobwebbed ceiling. 

"Stubborn," Belle squinted and sighed. "Your arm still needs tending." Belle continued dabbing the bloody arm. It was clear as day to her that he was conflicted about himself. 

"You could have ruined my work here. The stitches are still in place, but you set back the healing. I need to clean it up all over again." 

Belle wiped away the blood and used a tincture and ointment on his neck and arm again. Beast grimaced and felt nauseous from the pain. Belle wrapped the wounds with fresh clean bandages Mrs. Potts had left out in her room. She inspected his leg wounds and rewrapped them as well.

"That's all for today," Belle packed away her things. "In all seriousness; do rest. Don't move about. If you need help, your staff are happy to do so. All you have to do is ask nicely." 

"Tomorrow then," she squeezed his shoulder. He grunted and nodded to her, still fixated on the webs. Belle left the room.

 _'Ask nicely?'_ Beast he groaned. He knew his servants must hate him after being trapped here for so long as cursed objects. Why would they want to risk their necks in his chambers to clean up?

 _'You could just move to another room,_ ' his mind answered back. _'Unless you want Belle to continue visiting this boneyard.'_

The answer was so simple. He scolded himself for not thinking of it before. He stood up, putting one of his cloaks on to his shoulders and lumbered to his chamber doors.

" **Cooogsworth**!" he roared through the open doors. " **Cooogsworth!"**

The Beast paced back and forth, waiting for the mantle clockman to arrive.

"Yes, Master," Cogsworth gasped with his small feet scurrying along. "Coming right awaaay!"

Lumiere bounced along behind him as well. Those two always seemed to be together.

"Sorry for the delay Master. We were tending to the chapel," Lumiere panted.

"How," Cogsworth coughed and gasped. -"how can I be of assistance?"

"Have this wreck cleaned," Beast gestured inside. "Fix the bed. It must be comfortable and presentable. Not this ruin....please."

Cogsworth and Lumiere stared wide eyed and mouths agape. They looked at each other astonished by the request.

"Yes, sir," Cogsworth sputtered. "Of course, your Grace."

"I'll be in my study," the Beast walked past them making his way down the corridor. "Alert me when you are finished."

The Beast walked along to his study. His sensitive ears pricked as he heard a female voice echo. He knew the song all too well. He had heard that song echo through cathedrals several times. It was a sad song of death and it sounded like Belle was singing it.

He sat on the study sofa within across from the large ornate silver mirror.

 _'Should I?'_ he scowled wary of the magic mirror left behind by the Enchantress. He found often when he used the mirror it was in anger and he regretted what it showed.

"Show me Belle," he ordered it. 

The reflective surface of the mirror rippled and glowed green and filled his delicate nostrils with the scent of burning metal. The distorted sounds of Belle's voices sounded like a siren song underwater. Her fair smooth face appeared in the mirror framed by candlelight. The mirror image altered to reveal Belle kneeling with her eyes closed. She was singing in what appeared to be the chapel, a few floors below. The chapel designed acoustics resounded with her song. She was by no means a trilling opera diva, but her voice was clear and true. He was impressed but felt intrusive on the prayer song.

"Enough," the Beast mumbled as the mirror went still and reflective. The room was now silent, but he could hear the servants shouting and bustling about down the corridor in his bedchamber.

 _'I wonder who she was singing for?'_ he shifted to lay down on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I got a hankering for Halloween and it's the day after Halloween in the story timeline.
> 
> About music:  
> 1\. For the dinner music inspiration, take a look at Murray Perahia Play Bach on Spotify specifically Bachs flute, violin and harpsichord in A minor BWV 1044.  
> MOST piano peices in the 18th century were written interchangeable to the harpsichord since the piano forte was still a relatively new instrument. That is until the late 18th century when Mozart was in his teens and 20s spreading the piano forte's popularity. . ://open.spotify.com/album/4wCX2Wg1r6reOpLZ2z0TLY?si=nJcxzDKuSe-h7J-lOOBqZg
> 
> 2\. The All Souls Day inspiration music is based on Gregorian chants that were used primarily in churches until the 19th century. I thought of this particular requiem which is usually sung on November 2nd:  
> https://youtu.be/-zpHs8bf4k4
> 
> The calendar rhyme is as old as the Gregorian calendar which was established in Europe around the 1560's.  
> I also wanted to solidify a food source.. Glass gardens or greenhouses were uncommon and hard to keep until they were refined in the mid 1800's, they still existed in the 1700s. I made sure this castle had one.


	19. Prayers & Gowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle visits the chapel, reads to the teacups, gets some new dresses and continues to care for the Beast.

Belle dropped off the pack of medical supplies in her chambers. Picking up her notes and the Bible, she left for the chapel far below downstairs. The corridors were filled with the warm light of the sunset. Opening the groaning chapel doors Belle gasped at the sight.

 _'Lumiere outdid himself_ ,' she marveled at the dozens of glowing candles filling the opulent place. Belle searched the entrance area finding a stack of old hymnals. Walking past the towering decorated columns and sculptures, she found a small altar dedicated to the Holy Mother Mary. She began humming a tune as she went about lighting several unlit candles. She knelt and sang the All Souls Day song from memory.

It was a tune from every Good Friday service. It was the church melody for every village child lost to the illnesses of winter. The rhythm from whenever a village wife fell in childbirth. The sound of every strong farmer that met an accidental death. The harmony of all the elders who lived a full life of love with many descendants.

She sang the songs within the hymnal to remember her older sisters with their bright blue eyes and auburn hair. It was the same rich colored hair her Papa once had before the fire had caused it to go white. Belle sang the sad song imprinted on her heart. Those songs were her prayers.

Belle left the chapel where Mrs. Potts awaited her in the corridor. She informed Belle that dinner was ready and so Belle made her way down the winding corridors to the Emerald Hall. She was met with the maestro again and he played an aria with variations as she ate a delicious dinner. Finished with a delightful candied chestnut dessert, Belle left her things in the Grand Lobby as Chapeau handed over her navy cloak. She went outside to gather Philippe from the moonlit dusk into the stables. Going indoors from the cold, Belle made her way towards the embroidery room. She could hear the twittering of excited children voices. 

"Good evening everyone!" Belle announced entering the embroidery room. More than two dozen teacups were scuttling around the colorful flourished carpet. She felt like a school headmaster.

"Good evening Miss Belle!" they chirped in unison.

"Well, I'm so flattered that so many of you know me," she clasped her hands together. "I'm so pleased to see all of you here today. Let's all gather by the fire," Belle moved to sit cross legged by the fire and patted the carpet. The teacups gathered in front of her.

"I heard that you like stories," she smiled, opening up her book. The teacups agreed excitedly.

"Well, tonight I'm going to tell you a special story. I like stories very much because of all the different places they can take you. All you have to do is use your....." Belle pointed to her head. " Imagination."

"So why don't we use our imagination? Everyone clooose your eyes and imagine; a big blue sky. Underneath there's miles and miles of hot hot sand under a hot hot sun... can you feel the sun?" Belle asked. The teacups agreed.

"Alright, you can open your eyes if you want. Long, long ago there was a far, far away kingdom called Israel. The capital of Israel was a very holy and very important city called Jerusalem. In Jerusalem, they worship God but there were also many, many more kingdoms. One of those Kingdoms was called Babylon."

Belle went on to tell of King Nebuchadnezzar’s invasion, Daniel's capture into slavery, and how Daniel rose up through the ranks to serve the King, his son, Belshazzar and the King Darius after that; all while being a faithful Israelite. Through his faith he interpreted Nebuchadnezzar’s secret mystical dream and he solved the mysterious writing that appeared out of thin air in the halls of Belshazzar. She told them of the jealousy the other officials had towards Daniel and their plot to kill him.

"These jealous officers convinced the new King Darius outlaw praying to the gods for thirty days. To Daniel, remaining faithful to God in prayer was the most important thing to him and very important to his religion. So, Daniel broke the kingdom's law and knelt down to pray every single day. The jealous officers knew Daniel would not stop his prayers, so they found him praying as he did everyday and had him arrested. The King found out and was very upset and sad that Daniel was arrested. But the King knew the law was more important than favoritism. Because Daniel broke the law for praying, he was thrown into a den full of hungry lions to be eaten alive. Do you know what noise a lion makes?"

Some of the younger teacups roared and Belle played along roaring too.

"Very good! Well, the sad King Darius went to the lion's den the next day. He expected the den to be opened to remove Daniel's body as dead as a doornail. But when the guards opened up the den, Daniel was sitting there with the lions!

Daniel hadn't been eaten! He explained that as he prayed an angel appeared. The angel of God closed the mouths of the lions tight and kept Daniel safe. The King was glad that Daniel had been saved by the angels and was very angry at the jealous officers for tricking him into almost killing his dear friend. The King punished them, throwing the officers into the lions' den to be gobbled up as punishment for their wicked plot. The end." 

Belle closed the book with the page of notes and leaned further toward the teacups.

"Well, do you think the law against praying was fair?"

"No," all the teacups exclaimed.

"Even though the praying wasn't for the same religion as the King?" Belle pointed out.

The teacups replied with a mix of yes and nos.

"Well, what do you think is important about this story?" 

"Not to be mean against different people," a teacup chimed in.

"That's right," Belle pointed. "We should not plot against others just because we are jealous or because they are different. And we shouldn't try to hurt people just because they let us down. That means even kings shouldn't hurt other people just because they are different or have different religions."

The teacups looked confused and started talking amongst themselves.

"But why?" a teacup squeaked. 

"Yeah? Don't Kings make the rules?" another teacup asked.

"Sometimes Kings make rules for good reasons and sometimes bad reasons," Belle explained. "They are only people too, and everyone can make mistakes. Belshazzar made the mistake of using the temples stolen sacred dishes and cups and God sent the mystic writing to tell him his mistake. Darius made the mistake of not allowing people to pray and it almost cost him his good friend's life.

Good people don't always look like each other, or even pray in the same way. Sometimes standing up for our beliefs can be scary and lead us to scary places. But if we try to be full of hope and try to be good and just, things will work out. Understand?"

"Is that true Mum? a teacup asked.

"Yes, it is dearie," Mrs. Potts hopped in from the door. "It is true. Miss Belle is quite right. Whether king or commoner, we should treat everyone with kindness and dignity. Come on loves. Time to thank Miss Belle. It's time for bed. Off to your cupboards now."

The teacups clinked out the door thanking Belle and she waved goodnight to them.

"That was a lovely tale Miss," Mrs. Potts gleamed. "You truly know how to bring hope into our world."

"I'm glad they liked it. The parents in my village say I'm far too unorthodox, but I think it is simple human decency. The world has changed so much over the last century. Who knows what sort of world progress will lead us to?"

"True indeed," Mrs. Potts bobbed. "Would you like anything else this evening from the kitchens dearie?"

"Just chamomile tea please. I'll be going to bed soon."

Belle made her way upstairs and described the Maestro's music once more to the Madame. She retreated to the study to take notes on another story and crossed off the date on her hand drawn calendar. 

The next morning Belle woke at daybreak and took Philippe out to his snowy pasture. Heavy gray clouds crept over the white covered mountain tops. After breakfast, she played more hide and go seek with Chip moving their game to the lower levels of the galleries. Belle then had her skin pampered by the feather dusters with an orange cream scented mask in a sweet bergamot bath. She ate a light lunch and got dressed, ready to see to the Beast's bandages. She hoped he hadn't moved around again. 

Knocking on his bedchamber doors loudly, Belle was not at all surprised when he didn't answer. She opened the door finding the room was completely dark. She tiptoed in with candle in hand finding her way to the wall of closed curtained windows. Pulling back the curtains, she was astounded to find the room tidy and refurnished.

There were no more broken pieces of furniture or torn bits of fabric. All the knee-high heaps of littered bones were gone. The tiled marble floors gleamed. The gold and Persian blue ceiling was visible and dusted of all cobwebs and dirt. The familiar chaise remained near the balcony window, but the Beast wasn't laying on it. Walking further into the clean room, she noticed a new curtained section, realizing it was an enormous canopied bed. What she thought were to be repaired support pillars were actually carved bedposts as thick as tree trunks.

"Beast?" Belle called out and warily crept towards the rich red curtains. She slowly pulled back the curtains, and found his massive body tucked under a clean white sheet. His twisting horns poked out as he was snoring softly. 

Belle opened the rest of the bedcurtains, but the daylight still didn't wake him. She went to the balcony windows and drew back the remaining curtains along the wall. Repairs were still needed with some of the broken lattice window frames, but the small portions of broken glass panes were boarded up. Belle watched dense white snowflakes begin the fall. She wondered if the mountain pass was even open anymore with all the snow that had fallen.

Turning back to the sleeping Beast, Belle was irked that he still wasn't awake. The bright afternoon sun woke him up the day before yesterday, but the dimmer blueish light of a snowy day wasn't rousing him at all. Belle walked up to the huge bed.

"Hey there," Belle shook his fur covered shoulder, cautious of startling him. "Beast. It's Belle. I don't mean to intrude but I need to see your wounds."

He merely groaned and rolled over to the other side of the bed. 

"Beast," Belle went around to the other side and shook his large silky shoulder harder.

"I'm waking. I'm waking," the Beast muttered gutturally. He rolled onto his back, stretching out and began to snore louder. Belle reached over to feel for a fever on his golden brow. She rolled her eyes not feeling any extra warmth and tried to shake him awake several more times. He merely swatted at her hand like it was a bothersome fly.

 _'If this was a crisis like a fire, he'd be doomed,'_ Belle put her hands on her hips. 

She walked about the room to look closer at the changes. Most of the claw marks had been discretely covered with paintings. The torn portraits had been removed including that of the family and golden-haired man. A different portrait of the pale blonde lady had been hung where she was surrounded by white roses in a garden.

The glint of pink light shone in the corner of Belle's eye. She turned and saw the floating rose still glowing under its etched glass cloche in a windowed alcove. Belle was hesitant to draw any closer to inspect the rose remembering it was precious to the Beast. 

As she stared at the deep red bloom, the pinkish glow grew brighter. The falling dust motes of soft light swirled more fiercely, and Belle felt warmth radiate from the rose. She heard the river far below the castle rush with even louder noise. Belle thought it almost sounded as if the water itself was whispering. She dared to take a step towards the rose.

A loud yawn sounded like the groan of a huge barn door making Belle jolt and spin around. The Beast scratched at his bandaged light brown fur chest.

"Good," she quickly walked away from the glowing rose and towards him. "You're awake."

"Belle?" Beast frowned, his eyes squinting.

"Yes, it's me. I tried to change your bandages, but you weren't waking up. How do you feel?"

"Groggy," Beast cleared his throat and smacked his lips.

"What is the last thing you had to drink?" Belle rifled through the medical supplies.

"Uh... that tea...." he pinched the center of his brows.

"Was it the tea Mrs. Potts gave you in the hall?" Belle squinted suspiciously.

"Perhaps?" he grunted. 

"Honestly?" Belle looked at the ceiling. "Where is your bell cord? Ah, here it is."

She rang the cord three times and crossed her arms. "No wonder you weren't waking; your humors are completely unbalanced! You haven't had liquid in two days now? And no, stew does not count. You needed _actual_ liquids. Honestly, what are you thinking?"

"Doesn't matter," he sighed dejectedly, covering his eyes with his huge hand.

"Of course, it does," Belle replied but wasn't sure how else to respond. She wasn't certain if he was being melodramatic or truly despairing. 

A knock sounded at the doors and a door creaked open slowly. Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth and Lumiere stood in the doorway, mouths wide open.

"Yes, dearie," Mrs. Potts sounded hesitantly.

' _They are afraid of entering into his chambers,_ ' Belle observed walking towards them.

"Can you please bring three large steins of a lemon tea with cinnamon and honey. And also; a stein filled with a mulled spiced red wine. Someone hasn't had anything to drink for days now," Belle side eyed to the Beast. They scurried away and Belle grabbed a chair and brought it over to the bed.

"Sit up please. Let me see your arm," she began to unwind his bandages. "Why do you have so little regard for your health?"

"I told you it doesn't matter."

"I don't think the staff think so. Especially Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth. They do worry about you, you know?"

"They only worry because of..." he paused. He wasn't sure how could he explain to Belle about the curse and how they were bound to him by it. It was too much to think about after just waking. And it was almost as if he couldn't talk about it.

"Nevermind."

"Because of your temper?" Belle guessed continuing to work at cleaning the stitches. "No, I don't think so. Speaking to them for the past few days, I can see that they do care for you. At least mind your health for their peace of mind."

 _'I wonder if that's true,'_ the Beast stared at the fabric draped bed canopy. This girl didn't seem to lie like the rest of the people he had met in his life. She spoke her mind with no sugar-coated words. He breathed in a deep sigh as Belle worked at his arm. His nose filled with a sweet citrus smell from Belle's skin. 

"Your soap is different," he tried to change the subject, struggling to find anything else to think of. He knew women loved their fragrances.

"The maids said it was an orange bergamot cream today," Belle applied fresh ointment to his arm. "They insist on having toilette for my skin, everyday! It is much more indulgence than I'm used to, but I must admit it, it is pleasant."

"The spiced one you wore when you arrived; that one smelled better," he admitted in earnest.

"Well, thank you," Belle smiled. “I found that recipe in a book long ago and altered the ingredients based on my readings. Some of the ingredients were far too costly."

"You made it from a book?"

"Yes," Belle chirped, wrapping his arm with fresh wrappings. "The recipe wanted me to use a Persian date nut oil and frankincense."

"So you know healing arts, read, ride horses, sing and make your own perfumes? Are you a Renaissance scholar?"

"Not yet," Belle laughed. She felt relieved to not be mocked for her reading. "Ah, but can you imagine being as skilled as DaVinci? Just a moment, how do you know I sing?"

"I uh," he scratched his neck. "Heard a different voice singing in the halls yesterday. I assumed it was you."

"I didn't realize the chapel made my voice so loud," Belle blushed.

"No, it was pleasant," he mumbled. "And you weren't loud, my ears...they're, um, very very keen." He hadn't intended to let it slip that he had heard her. 

_'At least she doesn't know you spied on her, you louse,'_ he scolded himself. 

"Interesting," Belle remarked looking at his folded velvety ears. "Is your nose very keen as well?"

"Far too keen," he grumbled. "It's bothersome. I smell some truly awful things with this disgusting snout."

"I can imagine," Belle glanced at his velvety nose. It seemed to be an odd mix of a human's large hooked nose and an unidentifiable snout. She wondered if his strange nose was as delicate as an animal's.

Belle instructed him to sit on the chaise and worked on his neck wounds. She looked at the leg wounds and decided they no longer needed care or wrappings. Mrs. Potts wheeled in slowly on her cart with the four steins and Belle thanked her, setting them on a nightstand next to the bed. 

"Now I shan't leave until you finish all those drinks," Belle directed as Mrs. Potts left. The Beast moved back into the canopy curtained bed and grabbed a stein of lemon tea. 

"Stubborn," he rolled his eyes, downing the first stein. 

"You're one to talk," Belle smirked, crossing her arms. "And it's headstrong, if you don't mind."

He laughed drinking the next stein. By the third stein of tea, he found the pressure of an unrecognized headache had disappeared. Belle stared out at the window at the snowfall.

"It's really coming down," she whispered. 

The Beast grunted. His stomach clenched. He had almost forgotten to tell her she was permitted to leave for home. He took a swig of the spiced red wine preparing himself for the difficult conversation.

"This weather reminds me of Christmastide," Belle brushed back a loose strand of hair. The Beast choked on the last of the wine. Wiping his mouth with his good forearm he grumbled. A sour taste came up his throat. Christmas was a time of far too many bad memories. 

"Well, I need to bring Philippe in before it snows any harder," Belle turned to gather up her medical things. "Please be sure to eat a proper dinner this evening and continue to drink liquids. You don't want the staff fretting any further do you?"

Belle wished him 'good day' and Beast was left to stare at the snow with his memories. He wished the alcohol had some effect to drink them away. He decided a meal might help instead and rang the bell cord for the staff.

* * *

Belle spent the rest of the evening with another music filled dinner and read the story of Noah's ark to the teacup children. She found it sad that some of them didn't remember what a rainbow looked like because of the heavy mountain fog. The teacups informed Belle that the past few days had the most sunlight they had seen in a long while before Mrs. Potts shushed them and told them it was bedtime. The following morning, Mrs. Potts informed Belle at breakfast that the Madame asked her to return upstairs. The seamstresses had finished some gowns and wished to meet with her.

Belle found her bedchamber covered with open trunks filled with a countless variety of fabrics. The room was a flurry of floating moving clothing as the magical folk chatted and Sultan found plenty to bark about. The seamstresses; a pair of scissors and a pin pillow had worked tirelessly the past few days, excited to work on new ladies clothing instead of upholstery repairs. They displayed their work as the Madame helped Belle decide her selection of shifts and stockings with ankle designs made of durable cotton and fine silks. 

Garter ribbons where selected as were stays, petticoats, attachable ruffles, sleeves, and collars. There were more ribbons, belts and pocket belts, which Belle was happy to have since she did not have her apron with its pockets. Mrs. Potts brought in lunch as Belle took a short rest before trying on gowns of green, pink, and many more colors. Belle was happy that even though the gowns had hints of vintage Rocco fashion, they had kept her wishes in mind, so the gowns were practical and durable attire. Still, the gowns made her feel whismsical as if she stepped back in time into a fairy Countess's closet.

The seamstresses and the Madame had Belle look at more than forty fine silks and brocades claiming she must have at least two gowns made for special feasts. Belle decided to select a marigold golden hued fabric and a heavier velvety burgundy fabric. The seamstresses questioned her about beading and lace preferences suggesting that her winter gown might have bows and fabric roses attached along the over gown. Belle reminded them not to overwork themselves since she preferred simplicity. They decided that her winter gown would be ready for its first fitting within the month. They went through a variety of handkerchiefs with different lace patterns and weaves and Belle selected a simple style. 

"We will look at cloaks, scarves, gloves and hats another day Cheri," the wardrobe guaranteed, as Belle dressed in a new gown. It was a similar color as her own old gown, as blue as the sky. The sleeves however reached her forearms and a small peplum flared at the waist. 

"Let us pin some ruffled ribbon at the bottom of your sleeves and gown," the pincushion, Madame Bateau suggested. "Do you want the ivory color or the pastel blue?"

"No thank you," Belle grabbed her pack and a candle. "I still have work to be done and don't want to lose any pins outdoors."

Belle thanked the armoire and seamstresses for their hard work and left for the West Wing. It was late afternoon already. Her head was sore from the rowdy company and a tad too much champagne that Mrs. Potts brought up with treats. All of the magical ladies insisted one could not try on gowns without having macarons and champagne. Belle found a food tray and cold compresses once again laying outside the Beast's door and she knocked before entering.

She opened the window curtains and the Beast's bedcurtains finding him still asleep. She wondered how long he had been sleeping and grew concerned. His wounds were healing faster than she could have hoped for, but the Beast seemed to have little will to wake. A sour taste rose in Belle's mouth realizing she had seen this behavior before. 

Belle remembered her Papa wouldn't wake or take his meals readily either. At least not until the maid showed her how to cook. Then her Papa had to try his only daughter's delicious food. It was a clever trick on the maid's part to pull him out his grief. Belle eventually applied the same tactic to get him into the workshop again, asking him questions about springs and gears and trying to assemble things on her own. 

_'Could it be melancholy?'_ Belle wondered, shaking the Beast's shoulder to wake him. She tried several times, but he rolled over and swatted her away much like the day before.

"Look here," Belle announced loudly as he covered his eyes with his huge hand. "It's nearly sundown. I know you aren't nocturnal. You said so yourself. So why haven't you awakened? Have you even eaten yet today?"

"No," he grumbled with a deep sound in his bandaged chest. "At least I'm in a proper bed,"

"Yes, and the staff did clean the room the other day, I see," Belle chattered. She decided to antagonize him to wakefulness. "I'm glad you took my advice to heart and asked for their help. It's especially nice to see your bed is repaired. I see you prefer it to the chaise."

"Well a broken bed was uncomfortable."

"And the rest?" Belle chirped. The Beast only grumbled incoherently. Belle plopped down in the chair near the bed left from the previous day. 

"Well things can tend to pile up sometimes," Belle continued on. "Papa can go months without tidying his workshop. He leaves all his tools and springs in all sorts of places. Even the goats get to them. I found a gnawed hammer in the apple grove once. He says he knows where it all is but that was nonsense. It can be an absolute wreck. Especially if there was some sort of sooty mess from the engines."

"He's a craftsman?" Beast turned to Belle opening his eyes. 

"Yes, he used to craft clockwork, music boxes, automatons; all sorts of his own inventions until..." Belle paused. It dawned on her how strange it was to tell her captor about her home so merrily. "...we moved to the country."

 _'If it wasn't for_ **_him_ ** _I would be at home with my freedom,_ ' Belle's thoughts raced. _'Now the snow is hip high. I don't think I can try to journey home through the mountains without injury or death.'_

Her stomach sank and her throat tightened.

 _'Am I truly trying to raise_ **_his_ ** _spirits?!_ **_He_ ** _hurt Papa._ **_He_ ** _imprisoned him! I don't even know if Papa is well? How can I be acting so casual with him?'_

* * *

The Beast felt perplexed about Belle's father. He thought him a simple poor thief, but the Beast knew in order to make automaton, one had to be a brilliant genius. He was going to ask Belle why her father came to the mountain castle, but her face had gone pale. The Beast watched Belle's smile drop as her brow furrowed as she sat silently. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. He sat up wanting to comfort her, but he wasn't sure what was the matter. 

"That's a nice new day gown," Beast commented, trying to find some way to distract her. 

"Thank you," Belle looked away at her sleeve. "Madame Bateau and Mademoiselle Snips worked hard on it."

"Who?" Beast wondered aloud.

"Your seamstresses?" Belle looked down at her hands.

"Oh, well it is very pretty," Beast tilted his head trying to smile without showing his sharp teeth. Belle sighed.

"Let me see your arm please," she asked quietly.

He held out his arm and Belle kept her gaze downward. She seemed to be in a daze as she worked removing the old ointment and applying fresh ointments. He moved to the chaise without her asking and she saw to his neck. She was quiet the whole time. 

It was driving Beast mad. Belle had been a joyful creature for days; scolding and joking with him, but her silence reminded him of her distressed self who was sobbing in the prison cell. He racked his brain trying to find a subject to bring her back to her usual self. His nose caught a whiff of food that had been left outside the doors.

"Did the servants leave some food?" he asked when she finished his bandages.

"Yes," Belle sighed quietly.

"What about cold compresses?"

"Yes."

"Well those should go outside and cool off," Beast stood up with his tail swishing nervously. "Would you care for any...uh tea?"

"No thank you," Belle replied quietly standing up from the chaise. She put her pack onto her shoulder and moved towards the doors. The Beast followed. 

"I'll gather the food," he rushed past her to pick up the trays. Belle paused but nodded her head exiting through the doors. 

"Belle," he called out. She turned to face him and he grew worried; she seemed so disheartened. 

"Are you coming back?" he gulped.

Belle's lips parted as she took a deep shaky breath. Her eyes grew watery. He wanted to reach for her shoulder. He almost did.

"Tomorrow...for my bandages?" he asked, drawing his hand back. 

"Yes," she nodded and walked away. He picked up the trays and set the food down on a low table near a new large armchair. He sat down having no appetite after seeing Belle's demeanor change so drastically. 

_'She might be even more upset if I don't eat or drink,'_ he thought. He sighed and rang the bell cord so that he could have more tea and mulled wine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your reminder readers! Make sure you've had a glass of water in the past hour and a snack in the past 3hrs. The Beast has headaches from dehydration and low blood sugar. Don't be like the Beast!
> 
> I hope the religious stuff wasn't too boring but religious ideals were historically heavily tied into everyday life in Western society. I wanted to delve that a bit since I'm trying to tie in historical elements.  
> Historically, the Bible was the most common Western household book for centuries and one of the first books most people read until reading primers became more common. It's a good Sunday school story to since kids like the idea of secret dreams, writing appearing out of thin air and lions being tamed. I hope the old testemant story wasn't condescending since that wasn't my intent. I tried to throw some "Sing me a Story" vibes in the there with Belle and the teacups.  
> 
> 
> About Music: The All Souls Day inspiration music is based on Gregorian chants that were used primarily in churches until the 19th century. I thought of this particular requiem which is usually sung on November 2nd:  
> https://youtu.be/-zpHs8bf4k4
> 
> This YouTube channel has a great collection of classical Gregorian chants and this blog link tells you what songs are sung on what feast or holiday. It is a bit unorganized but very thorough, helping me remember stuff.  
> http://zephyrinus-zephyrinus.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-commemoration-of-all-faithful.html?m=1
> 
> I also had some inspiration abouf the gown scene from Mel Shaws original concept art for Beauty and the Beast 1991.  
> Link>>>>  
> https://talesfromweirdland.tumblr.com/post/611156730283458560/concept-drawings-by-mel-shaw-for-disneys-beauty
> 
> Again thanks for reading!🥀🥀🥀🥀


	20. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Beast discuss books from their childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Mild PTSD from childhood trauma - fire and hinting at abuse.
> 
> Cue Julie Andrew's for this chapter please: 🎵 Getting to know you, getting to know all about you🎵

Belle rushed away from the West Wing back to her own apartments. The armoire and seamstresses were still boisterous, folding the many ribbons and ruffles into trunks and chests with the feather dusters help.

"Excuse me," Belle sniffled with a smile as they greeted her. She dropped her pack and briskly walked to the small private salon through the antechamber. Belle closed the door behind her gasping with shaky breath. She moved to sit on the small silky brocade couch and clutched a ruffled throw pillow. Drawing her knees up to her chest, Belle felt the wave of sadness she was holding back crash forth now that she was alone.

 _'How could I have gotten so comfortable with him?_ ' she scolded herself as her chin trembled. _'I can't believe I'm befriending him! After what_ **_he_ ** _did to Papa. After what_ **_he_ ** _did to me? I don't even know if Papa is alive. He was so cold and pale.'_

Guilt riddled tears streamed down her rosy cheeks and sobs racked her chest.

 _'How could I be so traitorous?'_

* * *

By and by, Belle dried her tears and collected herself. She didn't want to appear upset in front of the magic folk in her chamber, especially after they had made her such lovely new clothing. She left her chambers to fetch Philippe for the evening. She combed his creamy mane even though it was well kept, giving him extra pets and added a few braids to his mane. She was grateful to have her dear tall draft horse still with her. 

Returning inside the castle, she found it hard to touch her rich dinner. Belle apologized to the Maestro and excused herself for bed. Entering her chambers, she found the Madame already snoring and moved to her study. Belle was relieved that she hadn't planned to read to the teacups tonight, finding it impossible to select a new Bible story for them. She shut the book in frustration and crossed off the 4th from her calendar. 

Belle moved to bed trying to quiet her mind with reading more Romeo and Juliet. However, Belle found Juliet's conflict over Tybalt's death perturbing. She struggled to fall asleep and struggled to wake up the next morning. By the time she finally got down to the stables, Philippe was stamping with agitation to his owner's tardiness.

Her belly ached with hunger as Belle ate more than usual at a late breakfast; particularly the crepes with elderberry jam. She asked Mrs. Potts if her toilette could be in the evening after tending to Philippe and to postpone her teacup reading until the next evening. Belle was happy that Chip was energetic as ever. She found her mind at ease as they played games in the galleries. After some time, Cogsworth interrupted informing Belle lunch was prepared. Nibbling on various pates and spreads during her mid afternoon lunch, Belle's leg bounced with nervousness. Uneasiness gnawed at her.

She felt so conflicted regarding the Beast. She considered his imprisonment of her father unforgivable. His careless rampage in his chambers was inexcusably reckless as well, however, he had risked his own life to save her from the wolves. That would have been a wretched death and if she hadn't returned him to the castle, he might have perished.

Belle found his behaviors contrary. He seemed genuinely interested in her discussions of books but he was terrible at looking after his health. He had been so rude and alarming at first, but now he showed better manners than some of the villagers. It was perplexing to her. 

Belle made up her mind to ensure that his injuries were completely healed. She deemed it was the honorable thing to do. She went upstairs and gathered her things before heading over to the West Wing. Belle slipped the copy of Romeo and Juliet into her petticoat pocket belt. When she arrived and drew back the window curtains, she found the Beast was still sleeping.

She took a seat next to his bed and began reading aloud planning for the sound to wake him. She was in no mood to run from side to side of his huge bed that could fit a sleeping horse just to shake his bulky shoulders.

" _Oh, thou wilt speak again of banishment."_

" _I’ll give thee armor to keep off that word—_

_Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy—_

_To comfort thee though thou art banishèd."_

_"Yet “banished”? Hang up philosophy!"_

Belle continued on until the Nurse's arrival scolding a bereaved Romeo on the floor. 

"Belle?" Beast rasped stirring from sleep.

"Yes," she strategically moved the book ribbon in place and closed the cover.

"You're here. You came," he moved to sit up quickly 

"Your wounds need tending to," Belle shrugged flatly.

"Were you reading?" he scowled in confusion.

"Yes, Romeo and Juliet," she waved the play in her hand.

"Honestly? That?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

"Excuse me?" Belle blinked in shock at his disdain.

"It's full of so much pinning and romance and blech," he plopped back onto the pillows and sticking out his tongue in childish disgust.

"Ha," Belle dismissed the remark crossing her arms. "Well what do you suggest reading?"

"I don't remember much," the Beast rubbed his brow. "-but I think le Morte D'Arthur was best. Knights, swords and such."

"Romeo and Juliet has several sword duels!" Belle objected loudly.

"Yes, but they are so dramatic," he shook his head.

"King Arthur is dramatic! Lancelot? Mordred convincing Arthur to burn Guienneivere at the stake?"

"Well I did say I don't remember much," Beast grumbled. "It was long ago from my childhood."

"Well, I remember it from my childhood. Papa would read that to me when we were young, until the book was lost in..."

The memories of the hot searing flames flashed in her mind. Belle gulped. 

_"Be brave," she heard her father shout scooping her up in his arms. The smoke burned her eyes and scratched her throat. It was so hot her skin hurt. She smelled the awful scent of burning hair as embers singed them. Her father coughed so hard, she thought he might fall down the stairs with her tight in his arms. Outside the fires burned tall and high on the rooftops all along the dark night streets. People screamed calling for water and from pain. His cough never went away after that..._

Beast stared at Belle with his brow furrowed in concern. He watched her eyes go wide when she had stopped speaking. It was as if she was looking straight through him at something invisible. He held his breath worried and straightened his slouching hunched back. Belle had seemed so distant and sad the other day. He didn't want that to happen again.

"The book?" he asked softly in his deep voice. Belle shook her head and blinked.

 _'That was long ago,'_ she reminded herself. _'You're safe. Think about good things. Think about books.'_

"Well a new copy was far too costly to afford," she pet the leather spine of the book in her hand. "I do adore reading A Thousand and One Arabian Nights though. Have you read that one?"

"No, I didn't have time for fairy stories," he shook his head. "Only classics, lessons and history tutors."

"That's too bad. I find fairy stories to be the best of all. I can read them all day, but I presume some historical journals and accounts must be just as exciting though."

"Of course you would", Beast sighed. He felt a tinge of jealousy gnaw at him.

"What do you mean?" Belle tilted her head confused.

"Of course you can read all day," he gestured into the air,"- if the letters don't go backwards or change places."

Belle stared at him trying to comprehend what he ment.

"Nevermind," the Beast flopped back into the pillows again. Most of his tutors didn't understand the headaches he had from reading. His father was worst of all yelling at him for hours on end how he was a stupid disappointing mistake of a son. That was better than going to bed hungry or the 'closet'.

"Do you mean difficulty with letters? I see..." Belle pondered with her hand on her chin. "I've heard of such troubles for some but I'm sure practice helps."

 _'Why am I being helpful again?'_ she reprimanded herself.

"Believe me, I had no time for such books," Beast explained. "I was learning mathematics and the art of war as you were milking cows and making daisy crowns."

"Dancing lessons!" she glared standing up. She would not be thought of as a simpleton milk maid.

"Pardon?" 

"I learned dance lessons," Belle clarified, putting her hands on her hips. "Ballet and social dance. Not how to milk cows. We don't even own cows."

"Why would a farm girl learn the ballet? That's for courts and good society," Beast tilted his head in confusion.

"I wasn't always a country girl," Belle sighed. "People's fortunes do change you know."

"I...I supposed they do," the Beast nodded trying to understand. 

_'If I was turned into the horror I am, what horrors happen to the common folk?'_ he pondered.

 _'He really doesn't understand,'_ Belle observed the pensive look on his hooked nose face. _'I guess if he has lived in the castle never wanting for anything, he wouldn't understand.'_ Belle sat back down and closed her eyes.

"My older sisters," she began folding her hands, "may their souls be at peace, they taught me how to dance. They would practice for their dance masters so I followed along with them and danced as their partner. I used to copy their singing scales as well until my father agreed I should have a singing master too."

She opened her eyes to look down at her hands. Talking about dancing caused her throat to tighten up.

"You had sisters?" Beast asked with genuine curiosity. His half brothers lived far away in Versailles and were much older than he. Whenever they met they were distant and indifferent. He could never imagine them dancing together for amusement, only if it was required at a ball and those were hardly entertaining for him as a child. He'd be shown off as a trophy; a living testament of political alliances. To have good sibling fellowship intrigued him.

"Yes," Belle nodded with a smile "- two sisters. But then scarlet fever took them when I was seven and they passed on to join our Mother."

Usually she would stop at that when condolences were offered, but the Beast only nodded with a grunt. His hooded deep blue eyes continued to be fixed on her listening intently. Belle took a deep breath to continue her explanation.

"And they passed away before my Father abandoned his work to grief.... and before our home burned down. That fire happened when I was eleven. The house next door had caught fire and many homes on the avenue were burned. We lost almost everything. 

Papa only grabbed me and some money. He hardly had a barely corn in the bank because of the war and my sisters' failed health. We wound up wandering the streets and found an inn to stay at. It was a shabby place. I remember there were lots of mice and drunkards. Papa returned to the ashes of our burned home looking for trinkets of our life. He coughed so fiercely after the fire.

He wound up writing to an uncle of my mother. Greatuncle Francis was not as hard-hearted as my grandfather. You see, my grandfather disowned my mother for marrying below her station. Greatuncle Francis took pity on our situation and wouldn't abandon us. He offered an vacant property in a distant village at a charitably low price; a sixth of its actual value. 

We gave up the city and left for the country. It was far away, but it was a new life for us. The village was safe from the illnesses and riots in the city, but it is sooo backwards and simple. It feels like everyone is stuck in the dark ages. Hardly anyone knows their letters. Women are thought of as mere breeders. I remember women in the city expanding their minds with books and enjoying foreign delights of hot chocolate. Going to the theater! 

Not there. It's infuriating. The world could be so much more! But... it's calm and quiet and it mended Papa's spirit. He did repairs that needed doing; helping the pewtersmith, the blacksmith bellows, the bakers ovens. And then one day he began tinkering again, with his very own inventions this time."

Belle looked down at her hands once more. No one had ever wanted to hear her talk about her sisters or home. She avoided it with her Papa to save him from sadness and in trying to talk to the other children as a girl about her woes, they would taunt her calling her a 'spoiled princess'. Everyone in the little village had some hardships with poverty and life. It seemed all the villagers had lost their own siblings or parents as well so trying to speak to them felt more like complaining to her.

"But I wanted to learn so many things in the city so badly. I still do. I wish I had copies of my old books. All my magical stories, they all turned to ashes that night. Le Morte d'Arthur and A Thousand and One Arabian Nights and Romeo and Juliet..."

The Beast listened to her watching her hazel and gold flecked eyes; they were far away in her memories.

 _'She's had a hard life,'_ he felt his stomach knot. _'And I'm the monster for making it worse.'_

"Life can be unfair to those that deserve the best," he gulped and mumbled in his low voice.

"I...." Belle looked up and felt strange seeing the Beast heeding her so attentively. She hadn't intended to speak about herself so much. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this."

She chided herself mentally for being so casual again, although it did feel pleasant to speak about her past. It was as if a stone had been lifted from her chest. She had never felt comfortable to do so with anyone else.

"Thank you for doing so," the Beast shook his horned head. "I didn't realize how much I misjudged you. I'm sorry for that."

"At least I found a copy of Romeo and Juliet in my chambers," she shrugged and smiled waving the book gleefully. "I think I've read it nine times since I found it."

"That many?" Beast gaped. He couldn't recall how many days had passed, but he was sure it hadn't been long.

"Why of course," Belle grinned.

"You are a scholar," he marveled.

"Hardly," Belle quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't know anyone that would read so much for amusement. Truly, it's impressive."

"Flatterer," Belle squinted in jest. "It would be nice to read something else other than the Bible in my apartments," she sighed. "That is probably my least favorite. I'm not a zealot."

"Ha! Neither am I," he barked with laughter imagining if she had tried to sanctify him with prayer when meeting him. 

"Oh, um, my apologies," Belle opened up her medical bag. "I started rambling about books and got distracted. I need to see to your arm."

"No need to apologize," he held out his arm. "It is perfectly suitable if you wish to discuss your pastimes. You really do enjoy reading, don't you?"

"Books are my favorite delight in the whole world."

"That's," he grinned trying to find the right word "-exceptional."

Belle tended to his bandages silently and left to care for Philippe. The Beast was left alone in his bedchambers to watch the ruby orange sunset dip behind the apricot glowing mountains. He rang the bell cord which Cogsworth and Lumiere responded to.

"Find a copy of King Arthur," he told them. "Have it brought to my chambers."

* * *

The Beast paced slowly back and forth in his clean bedchambers dressed in his worn out trousers and an aubergine cloak. He held his hands behind his back fiddling with a book. He swore the book had been much larger, but then again, he hadn't seen it since he left as a boy for court in Versailles. 

It seemed that yesterday Belle's joyfulness returned when she spoke of books. She was familiar with King Arthur and so he was determined to keep her spirits lifted. Beast intended to give her his old copy of the tale. Cogsworth and Lumiere brought the copy from his mother's abandoned chambers to his, last night as requested. 

He tried to read it but gave up with a headache within the first paragraph. The words bounced from the bottom sentence to the top and the vowels were hard to keep clear. He was worried his clawed hands would tear the thin pages. He woke up early around midday hoping Belle would like the surprise. 

The Beast had grown hungry and rang the staff for food. Once he had finished eating he found there was nothing much else to do but wait until Belle arrived. He thought about going to call on her at her apartments, but he knew she didn't want him moving around much. Besides that, Belle had mentioned the staff insisted she had her toilette and Beast knew ladies often did that in the first part of the day so they were primped for the evening.

So he found himself pacing along the windows. He opened up the curtains so she wouldn't have to.

 _'What am I doing?'_ he growled at himself. _'She'll arrive when she arrives. She's been caring for you everyday. I might as well just go back to bed instead of acting like a fool.'_

A knock sounded at the doors. The Beast jumped; juggling and dropping the book on the floor.

"Oh!" Belle sounded, opening a large bedchamber door. "You're awake. Is this a poor time?"

" Uh," he nudged the book behind his cloak and under the chaise. "-not at all. Come in."

"I'm surprised," Belle chuckled closing the door behind her "-you're usually still sleeping."

"Well, I don't want to take up your whole day," the Beast shrugged and scratched his neck. "You have that horse you like to see."

Belle walked across the large room and saw the empty food tray on the low table near a tall wide armchair.

"Did you eat lunch already?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes," the Beast grunted not knowing it had been lunch, only that it had been his breakfast.

"So did I. Soon you can eat in the dining halls again instead of your bedchamber."

He almost began to mention he hardly ate in the dining hall, but decided to let it pass.

"Well," Belle opened up her pack. "-let's begin then."

The Beast sat on the chaise as she looked after his arm. He complimented her on the new sage and mossy green gown she wore. Belle thanked him and mentioned the seamstresses wanted more bows and ruffles but to be sewed on but she had denied them.

"Practically suits me better than frivolity," she noted.

He was a bit taken aback by her comment. Fashion had always been expected to display his family's wealth and power to better influence the greedy vultures in court. It was a necessity to show the will of the throne and sway the opinions of those in the courts. Even the bishops and deacons of the Church wore rich robes with many gold chains and rings. He was perplexed but impressed.

"Practicality, huh?" he pondered aloud. "Is that why you don't wear any wigs and in a men's style? I mean, your hair, it's a... lovely, but you have the time and ability to dress in whatever is in your room _and_ from the seamstresses, but you choose not to. It's baffling to me."

"Hmm. How can I explain to you..." Belle brushed back a stray hair and put a knuckle on her chin in thought. She puzzled on how to make sure the chimera lord of a castle who likely treasured riches understood her viewpoint. "I do enjoy some comforts, yes, of course, but not excessiveness to the point of discomfort. A wig would fall off as I ride, and I fear extra ribbons and bows would only soil and tear over time. They aren't necessary for day to day life. Honestly, other than overall tidiness, I don't care for appearances. I value the wealth of one's heart and spirit over the worldly riches of the earth

"The wealth of one's heart?"

"Virtuous traits; kindness, fairness, loyalty."

"I see," he nodded. He somewhat understood the want for comfort nowadays as his huge form was difficult to dress in. Those types of virtues were a different story though. He long thought those ideals were from foolish childhood dreams but now; regarding Belle's behavior, he wasn't so certain.

The Beast removed his cloak and sat on the floor as Belle inspected his neck. As she put away her tin of ointment, he remained on the floor. He fiddled behind him reaching under the chaise for the childhood book.

"Um, here," he barked when he finally grabbed the leather book-spine. He held it outstretched and Belle had to look up above her head to see what it was. He lowered his fuzzy arm so it was at her eye level.

"I thought you might want to read something different," he explained. He felt his cheeks grow warm and was glad his fur covered them. He felt ridiculous. Belle read the title and covered her mouth with a gasp.

"Oh my goodness," she squealed quietly. His ears perked up at the gleeful noise.

"You can have it," he explained. "It's yours if you want it."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course," the Beast replied. "It's just collecting dust."

"Thank you," Belle gingerly grabbed the book. She held it like it was a fine silk or diamonds and flipped slowly through pages with a smile.

"Chapter One," she read aloud. "It befell on the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was King of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against him long time. And the duke was called the Duke Tintagil."

Belle paused smiling at the book. She never thought she would read these words again. She held the book in a hug and twirled with a giggle. Belle then remembered she was still in the Beast chambers, and cleared her throat with embarrassment. He still sat on the colorful marble floor tiles and listening intently to her words.

"I haven't heard that in forever," he rumbled low in his chest. "Not since I was a child."

 _'He struggles with his letters,'_ Belle remembered.

"Shall I read it outloud?" She plopped down back onto the chaise.

"Hmf," the Beast snorted and looked at his clawed toes. His deep set eyes twitched. "I would like that, very much in fact, but I'm afraid I'll be a poor audience. I don't do well with lots of company and I don't wish to lose my temper."

"Does it feel as if your mind itches when people engage in idle chatter?" Belle tilted her head with curiousity.

"Yes!" the Beast turned with amazement. "How did you know?"

"It happens to me sometimes. Especially when the village women folk going on an on and on about the mundane. I can stop whenever it becomes too much."

"Then yes," he smiled. "Please read."

Belle patted the chaise as she scooched to the foot of the chaise and he sat near the slanted head.

"And so by means King Uther sent for this duke, charging him to bring his wife with him, for she was a fair lady, and a passing wise, and her name was called Igraine."

Belle continued to read until the Beast noticed her voice start to wear. He rang the bell cord and called for tea and suggested they move to the armchairs.

Belle didn't stop reading until the room was filled with golden light of the evening sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind kudos and comments. It is very encouraging😊 I can hardly believe this has over 2k hits currently. The fandom lives!🥀  
> Writing for two seperate internal thoughts is something I'm starting to dabble with, and hope to improve on as the story continues.🤓
> 
> The creators of the 1991 Beauty and the Beast, based Belle's movements after a ballerina. I wanted to expand on that because those graceful natural movements come from years of daily training from a very young age. The British Royal Ballet trains children with some dance experience starting at 11yrs old. The Bolshoi Ballet starts programs at 9yrs old. You ARE expected to have basic training that started from 4 or 5 years old. Just like with martial arts, kids change and grow their bone structure to become an instument, so that stays with you.  
> In many of the original versions of Beauty and the Beast, Belle has two older sisters who are jealous of her looks. Sibling rivalry is real, but one of the fairytale versions they literally drown Belle. I wanted Belle to be able to reflect happily on her sisters, not face that.  
> History Notes:  
> Ballet in the 17th century grew out the French court performances of the 15th&16th Masquerades or Bal du Masque. Originally starting as a Carnival celebration before Lent, they became regular events to celebrate court marriages, birthdays and more. Louis XIV or the Sun King would have ballet performances that literally lasted all day. Basic ballet became an important requirement for socializing in French society until it deviated into profession in the 18th century. It was not the acrobatic ballets we recognize now with dozens of turns at one time or the leg extended to almost hit the back of one's head. It was quite sensational when performers started to do wide leaps and lift the legs above the knees. There's lots of info out there on the interwebs regarding this.


	21. The Pass- Part I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back at the ranch...(village)

Father Robert held a full basket in the crook of his arm. It was filled with bread for the upcoming services still steaming in the cold morning air. Winter had slammed the remote village with remarkable haste as soon as November began. Bundled up in the majority of his black priestly clothing, he made his way through the snowy village square. The village boys had kept shoveling the ice and snow that fell throughout the week. Sometimes they were busy with the task five times a day. Farmers scavenged their snowy fields for the last remnants of their harvest before the ground would freeze solid and their beets and carrots were lost. A few dried brown leaves still clung to bare branched trees but they were frosted with ice crystals against the blue morning sky.

Father Robert made his way through the bustling morning market with the intent to visit Maurice. A week had passed since the physician arrived from a neighboring town. Father Robert had sent a rider to call on him to assist the feverish coughing craftsman and the physician arrived two days after. After inspecting Maurice, he visited Father Robert's humble home next to the tiny stone church. 

That evening, Doctor Pierre explained to Father Robert that there was nothing that could be done for the man. Maurice always had a slight wheeze from cold and damp ever since his youth, but country air had always acted as a good remedy. Now with the years tacked onto the man's life, his lungs appeared to be growing worse. It seemed that an illness had taken root in his lungs, which was not uncommon in his age. All the physician could do was administer leeches and gin and make the man comfortable. Otherwise Maurice seemed to otherwise be in good physical health.

"In regards to his disposition however," Doctor Pierre explained. "I am concerned. When I asked about the lady of the house, he went on about his daughter being held captive in a castle. It's preposterous."

"Yes," Father Robert had confirmed. "His daughter's name is Belle. I believe she fled from her betrothed on their wedding day. Maurice claims he knew nothing of the intentions of her fiance, Gaston Legume but given his current state, we cannot be sure."

"I see," the physician puzzled. "Belle. I do recall that girl; imaginative but quite intelligent. How odd."

"Yesterday I spoke to Gaston regarding the postponed wedding," Father Robert divulged further folding his hands behind his back. "He came to me alone to plan the whole wedding. I assumed it was due to his generosity; caring for all of the expenses, but given Belle's sudden disappearance, I'm no longer certain. I asked Gaston when he discussed the betrothal to Maurice. Gaston claims they had the conversation over a month before. And Maurice claims that is when he instructed Gaston to stay away from Belle."

"I know the Legumes family," Doctor Pierre shook his head. "Gaston is a prosperous fellow as are his kin. An eligible girl in her position could do no better. I wonder if they quarrelled? I do hope the girl is safe. "

"Maurice doesn't think so. I do believe Maurice to be an honest man, but his claims show a troubled mind."

"If Belle was around to care for her father, I would not be concerned," Doctor Pierre nodded. "- but an unsupervised mad man can do unspeakable things."

"Maurice has always been good natured and harmless. If any violence were to happen I would be shocked or say the man had good reason."

"A sane man would have good reason. A mad man needs no reason whatsoever. I'm afraid your association with the fellow clouds your judgment."

"Perhaps. I will keep an eye on him until this business is sorted. If I do see anything out of the ordinary, I will act immediately."

The physician left the following day after staying the night on the Legumes estate. Father Robert prayed for word of Belle. Out of all the requests he had sent to neighboring villages, the one reply he received was ill. They had not seen any vagrant girl of her description nor any wanderers for that matter.

The cold snowy weather kept the roads unfavorable and dangerous. He feared he would not receive word from the rest of the local clergy for a while. No one in the village had seen Belle either. Whispers grew that Belle had run away out of embarrassment; realizing her mistake of turning Gaston away. Father Robert could hear it in the gossip making his way past the market stalls. The crowd started to buzz louder as some commotion was heard. Father Robert rushed closer to the gathering mass and saw Gaston atop his midnight steed with Lefou on a muddy colored steed close behind him. Gaston, waved to the crowd and dismounted.

"She's still out there! We must go!" sounded a familiar wheezing voice.

"Excuse me, " Father Robert pushed through the crowd. "Please make way."

He found Maurice seated with a heavy cloak and tawny scarf on a small parcel sleigh attached to Lefou's steed. Maurice's hands were tied behind his back

"What is the meaning of this?!" Father Robert stormed up to Gaston.

"Father," Gaston smiled. "Thank goodness you're here. He tried to get into the pass. Lucky I was riding by when I did. I was hunting the outskirts for deer before it snows anymore. I found him trying to trekking waist high into snow towards the forest."

"Belle is out there!" Maurice croaked. "You must believe me." A coughing fit over took him and Father Robert knelt down to put a hand on his back.

"Slow down old man," Gaston cooed. "It's impossible to go through those mountains. Even Napoleon fell when it came to winter. The pass is closed."

Tears welled up in Maurice's eyes.

"I tried my darling girl," he slouched and began bubbling. "I tried. I'm sorry. I can't. That Beast. That damn beast!"

"There there," Father Robert rubbed the crying man's back. "You must be strong for Belle. She would not want you behaving like this. You must look after your health. We can resume looking for her later."

Maurice exhaled a deep shaky breath trying to calm down and began coughing once more.

"Untie him Gaston, we must get him indoors," Father Robert ordered.

"Certainly Father," Gaston pulled out a large hunting dagger and slashed the ropes. Father Robert felt uneasy seeing a hunting large dagger that long and as wide as a man's forearm, but knew that it was required to take down dangerous animals. Maurice rubbed his wrists and still sat trembling on the small sleigh.

"Everyone please go about your business, " Father Robert motioned to the gawking crowd. "This man is merely ill with his own poor health." 

They turned to one another and began to mumble and chatter even more.

"No need to fret everyone," Gaston stood with his hands on the hips of his fur trimmed coat. "Go about your day." The villagers shrugged and returned to their shops and market stalls.

"Gaston, a word," Father Robert clapped Gaston on the shoulder moving him closer to the midnight black steed.

"Of course," Gaston boomed.

"Thank you for fetching Maurice. That was very helpful but I must ask; do you know where Belle is?"

"Ha," Gaston chucked. "Hiding in shame no doubt for having cold feet on our wedding day."

"Be serious," he hissed and shook Gaston's arm. "Maurice is ill. His spirit is breaking and no one has seen her for more than a week. I didn't see her in her home. Winter is upon us and I do not want to think the worst, but I can't rule out Belle may be in danger."

"She wasn't home," Gaston squinted. He glanced at Maurice standing up slowly from the sleigh. Lefou was still seated on his muddy steed and eating an apple. 

"You don't think..." Gaston whispered with a frown. "Her own father harmed her? Murder?"

"What?" Father Robert gawked. "NO! That man loves her too dearly."

"He's mad," Gaston squinted at Maurice. "And mad men do desperate and dangerous things. It can turn them into beasts even if they don't mean to. The battlefield was filled with such men."

"Have more faith," Father Robert shook his head. "The goodness of God is found in everyday folk, Gaston."

"Of course Father," Gaston smiled.

"I'm glad you found him," Father Robert patted his arm. "I'll take it from here."

Father Robert gathered the wheezing Maurice by the shoulders and ushered him home to the warm cottage over the bridge.

"Confounded!" Maurice coughed as they entered. "I need my tea."

Father Robert stoked the coals and set the fire ablaze for warm water. Maurice sat in the chair near the fireplace.

"I asked you to come and see me when you were well," Father Rober chided.

"I know, I know, but I began to feel better and I just couldn't leave Belle to that horrible dungeon," Maurice coughed dryly in his rocking chair.

Father Robert searched, finding a cup on the wooden table, still covered with clean white linen. It was clear that Belle's feminine touch was in every corner of the cottage with drying herbs hanging from the beams to a mending basket on a plain shelf. Searching several clay jars, Father Robert asked Maurice which was his tea. Maurice told him it was on the far left with a number four marking with a swirl. Father Robert eyed the jars with odd charcoal markings.

"Maurice what is this?" he pointed to the mark.

"That's the tea. Smart girl knew how to label things like an apothecary". 

"Apothecary?"

"Yes, the Greek symbol jupiter for juniper," Maurice smiled. "She made me a tea for my cough with juniper, peppermint and anise. Read about it from some ailment book from Monsieur Carion's shop. She said she wanted licorice root but anise was less expensive"

Father Robert sighed in relief. He knew that the widower and daughter were outsiders in the town and not very religious. For a moment he feared that the symbols ment they may be dabbling in the occult to assist the widowers inventions. Maurice's coughing ceased with tea and the warmth of the cabin. Father Robert left him a loaf of bread and bid him good day.

He visited the gangly farmer down the lane. He asked if the family might check in on Maurice and bring him broth for a week. After convincing the farmer's wife that Maurice had the cough of an aging man, not a new plague, she agreed to send one of her girls over with the broth and a cup of milk to heal the portly widower. Father Robert tipped his hat and left the farmer's family with the remainder of his market bread. It was obvious that with the many children in the home, it was needed.

He made his way back into town with an empty basket, prepared to purchase more from the boulangerie. The market was all abuzz with what had happened between Gaston and Maurice.

_"Tied up like that?"_

_"Dungeon in a castle?"_

_"Mad…"_

_"I thought he was drunk before."_

_"Run away?"_

_"She did deny Gaston."_

_"Murder?"_

_"He is crazy..."_

_'There is no way that man could harm his only daughter,'_ Father Robert reaffirmed to himself. _'I have more faith than that.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short but it just made sense to break it up into two parts.
> 
> From a technical standpoint, I tried to make it seem like Maurice has life long asthma and mild emphysema from the fire. We know these things know in modern times, but even a hundred years ago, this was only diagnosed if a person had consistent wheezing. Then arsenic was prescribed.🤦 It should be noted that gin was brewed in the Middle Ages as a concoction to help kidneys, liver, heart and lung ailments.  
> It seems that ancient cultures had better luck with herbs but that knowledge was forgotten through the European dark ages.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and encouraging comments.🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀


	22. The Pass- Part II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mountain pass is closed, so what now?  
> (In which Beast is a demiromantic polysexual dummy)

Belle strolled down to the West Wing with her pack on her shoulder and a copy of King Arthur clutched in her arms. The Beast had surprised her yesterday afternoon, gifting her the book. Belle returned the favor by reading aloud to him, recalling that he had trouble with his letters. She also began to read the same tale to the teacups that evening, placing a different ribbon at the other page that they left off.

The little teacups were full of questions about the story and so their evening reading was at a slower pace. Belle felt a tad guilty for enjoying herself while she knew she should only feel resentment towards the Beast's imprisonment of her father. It was just so nice to be able to talk about books without scorn or mockery. Belle speculated that she was just making the best of the situation.

 _'Maybe one day, I'll be able to return home to Papa,_ ' she surmised.

Belle knocked on the large doors decorated with the golden lion handle and guarded by unmoving statues. The eerieness of their lit candelabras gripped in their skeletal hands was wearing away now that she knew the corridor merely led to the Beast's chambers. Belle was surprised to hear the Beast answer her telling her 'enter'. She went into his chambers and tended to his bandages.

"You ought to be well enough to roam about the castle tomorrow, so long as you don't overexert yourself," Belle explained as she rewrapped the clean bandages around his wide neck and chest. He helped pull the roll of fabric around so that she wasn't leaning into a strange hug-like stance.

"I think we should keep the arm wrappings fresh for another week, just for good measure. You can bath tomorrow, but don't get your arm or neck wet. Your body will absorb the threads after about three months so do not pick at them in irritation."

The Beast nodded listening to her instructions.

"You'll finally be able to have a normal dinner down in the hall," Belle pat him on the shoulder encouragingly. 

"I don't usually go down there for dinner," Beast grumbled.

"So do you just starve yourself?" Belle joked.

"Well, there isn't any real point for me to eat honestly," Beast sighed, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back on the chaise. "It's insignificant for a monster like me." 

_'He's too prone to melancholy to be putting himself down so often_ ," Belle tucked in the end of the bandage with a twinge of irritation. ' _Yes, his body is strange but he isn't gruesome, just different.'_

"Hey, now," she gave him a light pinch on a large branch sized rib. "What makes you say that?"

He merely jumped and grunted. 

"Clearly you can't be that monstrous if you had the heart to save me from the wolves," Belle argued. "Though, I'll admit, I'm still cross with what you did to my father..."

Belle fell silent. She remembered the delicacy of the subject and turned to pack away the ointments and soiled wrappings. The Beast gulped in anticipation. After hearing her read yesterday afternoon, he made up his mind to no longer be cowardly. He intended to finally inform Belle that she was free to leave. He wanted to for days now, but he always felt too uneasy at every attempt. 

The Beast understood it was undeniably impossible for anyone to love him. Besides, he absolutely could not picture himself being in the throws of passion with Belle. She was like a comrade to him now, not a lustful late night lover. He couldn't treat her with love like that. That didn't mean he didn't feel downtrodden about losing her company.

" _Why_ didn't you leave me in the woods?" he asked quietly. 

"Whatever do you mean?" Belle sat on the chaise rummaging through her pack.

"It doesn't make any sense," he shifted on the floor to glance at her. " _You_ wanted to leave. _You_ wanted to go home. You could have, right there"

"It...didn't seem right," Belle fiddled with a toggle on the pack. "What kind of person would I be leaving you like that? Anyhow, why did you save me? I broke our agreement and ran away. You could have let the wolves gobble me up as punishment." She closed the pack and laughed nervously, swinging her legs playfully. Belle fell silent and stopped, feeling the Beast's deep blue gaze steadfast, absorbing her words. The conversation far too tense for Belle's liking. 

"You were right," Beast admitted with a low grumble. His chestnut tail swished in uncontrolled nervousness. "What you said when you brought me back here; I lost my temper and I frightened you. It was my fault you ran off into the storm. I had to make it right and make sure you were safe from the woods. All it would have taken is one misstep of your horse and you could have been trapped and froze to death. And I'm glad I did go to help you. Those wolves were savage. If I had only explained things, you wouldn't have been in danger in the first place. Instead I was a monster."

"You need to stop saying that you're a monster," Belle gritted her teeth at his self-deprecation. "Believe me, I know real monsters. Arrogant scoundrels who are adored but are villainous."

"Ha!" the Beast roared with deep laughter. "And I'm not a villain? I captured your father in my gardens and then traded your freedom for his. I scared you every single day of your stay with my temper. I've mistreated you. I'm an awful villain," he gestured to himself.

"You don't scare me," Belle frowned at him. The Beast was puzzled. Belle shook her head "-at least, not anymore. Besides...do you regret it?" Belle asked quietly.

Beast's eyes went wide as her hazel gold-green flecked eyes pierced him for an answer. He remained silent unsure how to answer. 

_'She's referring to the deal,'_ he realized. _'Her exchange of her freedom for her father's. I'm not unhappy that she's here; she's so friendly and remarkable. But how she came to live here wasn't fair. Especially since there's no point in trying to break the curse.'_

"I... didn't think through the circumstances properly," he scratched his neck and sighed. "I... didn't understand how much hurt I was inflicting. I could have thought about it, but I didn't. I understand now that I was acting cruelly. I'm sorry. I do regret doing this to you and your father."

 _'-but I don't regret meeting you,'_ he wanted to say but the words got stuck as he gulped.

"Then you're not a villain," Belle chuckled relieved at the knowledge of his remorse. "Everyone makes mistakes. Whether we learn from them or not and try to do better is what determines morality."

"Your right," he put his hand on his knee and moved to stand up. "That is exactly why you may leave the castle."

"Pardon?!" Belle truly thought she was hearing things.

"Belle," he cleared his throat with rehearsed memorization "-this arrangement I coerced was foolish and selfish. I behaved brashly. I mistreated you. I called you a resident, but in reality, you're a hostage of my own folly. Please accept my deepest apologies. As soon as I am healed, I will clear the forests of the wolves to guarantee your safe journey home. You may leave with any possessions you wish as recompense for your suffering."

"You mean," Belle blinked bewildered at his words. "I'm free?"

_'He's really taking back the arrangement without negotiation or provocation?,_ ' Belle took in his words still bewildered by them. _'I thought it might take months or years to start reevaluating the matter but it's only been a week. He's been thinking about breaking our arrangement all on his own,'_ Belle realized.

"Yes, but please," he held his large hand outward "- I must request you wait until I am well enough to clear out the forest of the wolves before you venture through the mountains. I cannot guarantee safe travel until then."

 _'Safe travel,'_ Belle mused bitterly. _'The mountains are covered and the pass is surely closed by now.'_

"No, I can't go," Belle frowned, staring out at the wintery landscape.

"Of course you can," Beast scoffed. "This is no trickery. I release you from your oath."

"No, you don't understand," Belle shook her head. "Let me try to explain. Do you have many visitors here in the winter?"

"No. Not anymore at least," Beast replied perplexed.

"A single soul at all?"

"Not for a long time," his tail twitched with uneasy confusion. "Not until your father."

"Do you know _how_ old the mountain road leading to this castle is?" Belle questioned on with hands folded in her lap.

"I'm...not sure," Beast grunted after sometime.

"Beast, until a few days ago, I didn't even know the sideroad lead anywhere! It's been abandoned since the war, at least, and it wasn't on any map I recall in my village. The main road leading here is remote and treacherous. All the travel in these mountains stops in the winter since the pass is always closed. The valleys fill too deep with snow and the villages and commons aren't busy enough for the province to clear them. Even the skilled outdoorsmen in my village don't venture through the woods in winter. The risk of avalanches and landslides off the cliffs are too great all the way through the spring thaw."

"The castle road..." Beast was stunned, "it's gone?"

"Yes."

 _'What happened?'_ Beast's mind raced. _'What war? Was it the curse? Why didn't I ever think to check on what was happening in Versailles?'_

"So you're confined here?" Beast frowned. "Are you certain there is no way for you to return home?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Belle twisted at her fingers. 

_'Does he favor his solitude that greatly?'_ Belle wondered. _'He wants me to leave that bad?'_

"I can try to leave," Belle continued, "but my best chance was last week. Perhaps, if I had a mountaineer guide or maybe if I have a look at a map...I might be able to find a safe passage. That may take me a few days to walk around the mountains."

"A few days?" The Beast pondered out loud.

 _'I made an error,'_ Beast rebuked himself. _'I thought she could leave at anytime. I don't want her to freeze venturing through the woods.'_

"When does the pass open nowadays?" Beast asked with his tail swishing. 

"March, April? May?" Belle shrugged. "Spring is a fickle sort. You never know if it will be blistering sunny weather or just more winter."

"Then I made a terrible blunder," Beast grumbled. "You could have left if I had just explained sooner." 

"I," the Beast frowned with his fist clenched. "I'm sorry. Please believe me; you may leave whenever it is safe, but until then, please make this castle your home. This is all my fault for being a cowardly fool," he paced up and down the windows. His hands clutched at his horned head. His head hurt and he felt dizzy.

"Idiot!" The Beast pounded his fist to side on the marble wall hunching over in frustration. "Stupid buffoon. Vile monster. Damn! Damn it!" 

The large window panes further along the wall rattled. A small pane wobbled and fell onto the floor. The glass shattered into tiny sparkling shards. He spun around shocked at the glass falling. His eyes grew wide looking at Belle still seated, watching his self chastising. He hadn't meant to show his frustration in front of her.

She had jumped slightly surprised at the sound of shattering glass but she could tell he hadn't actually pounded the wall like he did punching the wolves. Still his strength and height was incredible. 

_'I suppose even castles are simply not constructed with eight foot chimera men in mind'_ Belle noted. _'Everything must be so delicate to him.'_

"Damn it," the Beast hissed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean... my temper and this body," he groaned. He walked briskly across the floor to a large armchair. He sat facing away from Belle and burying his face into clawed hands in frustration. He waited for her to leave in terror.

"Such melodramatics," Belle sighed and stood up. She walked over to the armchair across from him and plopped down.

"Excuse me," she crossed her arms with a cheeky tone. "Are you trying to frighten me?"

"Noooo," he moaned into his fur covered hands.

"Do I look frightened?" Belle quirked an eyebrow. He looked up and was perplexed at her slight smirk. He shook his head to indicate no.

"So," Belle clasped her hands "-there is no need to fret. Apology accepted. Thank you for revoking our agreement and allowing me to stay until spring arrives. I greatly appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Of course," Beast sputtered. "You're welcome. I don't want you to get hurt out there."

"Well," Belle moved a stray hair away from her face and crossed her arms "- unless you have a broom, we should call for someone to clean this up."

The Beast nodded and walked over to pull the servants bell cord. 

"I also have a while before I collect Philippe for the evening," Belle stood to grab her things. "Should I continue reading where we left off; with Balin was it?"

"Yes, please," Beast's tail swished eagerly.

"Now he was a dolt," Belle smirked.

"Indeed." Beast sighed with relief.

* * *

Cogsworth and Lumiere waited in the candlelit corridor that evening, waiting for Mrs. Potts to leave Belle's bedchamber. She rolled out on her brassy cart with an empty silver cup of hot chocolate. The clockman and candelabra hopped onto the corridor sofa and then the cart. They rolled along with her to an empty room.

"Well, he's done it," Mrs Potts bobbed when the door closed. "He's actually decided to let her go."

"He's done what? **How!** " Cogsworth gasped "How could he?"

"It's it obvious?" Mrs. Potts chuckled. "He cares for her."

"Why haven't we changed then?" Lumiere asked, confused.

"Because, he doesn't realize he is in love," Mrs. Potts sighed. "And I don't think she loves him either. Not yet at least."

"What is wrong with zem?" Lumiere exclaimed. "Ze are full blooded Frenchmen! Love is so easy! Ze Master would romance ladies always before."

"Lumiere," Mrs. Potts squinted. "-you should know better than anyone that lust and passions are not always true love."

"The Master has released her from their agreement," Cogsworth still shook his head, tutting in disbelief. "Then he has lost all hope on trying to fall in love."

"And there is nothing keeping her here either," Lumiere slouched. "Nothing but the snow."

"Then let's pray that it lasts," Mrs. Potts sighed. "They are getting along _so_ well now. The Master is actually thinking about how to make **_her_** happy. That means there is still hope."

"Oui, if only he would realize it," Lumiere crossed his candle arms.

"Well, it doesn't help that he's cooped up in that room of his all the time," Cogsworth put his golden arms at his waist like middle.

"But that's just it!" Mrs. Potts exclaimed. "Belle told me that he is well enough to roam around the castle. She was very happy with how his wounds were healing quickly."

"Well bon!" Lumiere glowed brighter. "Zer we go! Romance and dinner go hand in hand."

"Easy now," Mrs. Potts warned. "These things do take time." 

"And there is the delicate matter of time itself," Cogsworth groaned. "We don't know how much time has passed. Only that Belle said it was All Saints Day...what was it...three days ago? A week? Confounded!" Cogsworth rattled and chimed. 

"Maybe it is for the best mon amie," Lumiere sighed.

"Indeed," Mrs. Potts chirped. "Now is not the time to go overboard, but we must still support and nudge the Master along if possible."

"Yes Mam!" Lumiere saluted.

"Well, let's get back to work then," Cogsworth suggested as they left the empty room.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a lot of dialouge for me to write. I am much more of a describe the scenery to the last detail of the scent of the air and the science behind it, so the speech bits is very hard. I get Tolkien and his rambling about the history of trees. Ents man, I totally get it.
> 
> I hope the conveying of Beast having sexual encounters but never being "in love" is there. That's always been my headcanon anyways.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀


	23. Glittering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle discovers more about the rose and the Beast remembers the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Contains depictions of panic/anxiety attack and suggestions of childhood abuse.

Belle walked down the sunny corridors in the afternoon humming along. She was free.

Free!

Belle still could hardly believe that the Beast had broken off their arrangement just yesterday. He apologized the day before and told her she was free to leave whenever she wished. It hadn't taken months or years of careful discussion. It had only taken a week and she wasn't even trying to persuade him to do so.

Unfortunately, she was still stranded at the castle for the winter away from her home and dear Papa. Belle tried to cheer herself up, reminding herself that she had many wonderful blessings at the castle; books, charming magical company, and she didn't even have to clean or cook. Philippe was also with her so she could ride down the lane to and from the stables and pasture. While the Beast was prone to downtrodden moods, he appeared to look forward to her readings and discussions of books. It was like a dream. 

She entered the darker portion of the West Wing. The slender marble arm sconces protruded from the shadowy walls barely lighting the way. Belle, however no longer needed to bring her own candle as she was now familiar with the dimly lit route.

A rumble like thunder sounded and Belle cried out finding herself on the marble floor. It was as if she had slipped on ice. Trying to stand up she realized the floor was shaking. Paintings clanked against the walls and the windows rattled. The wood within the walls and ceiling groaned as dusty debris fell like snow from above.

As soon as it started, the rumbling stopped.

 _'Was that an earthquake?'_ Belle stood up hesitantly feeling her bruised knees. _'A mountain landslide?'_

"Belle!" a roar sounded. Belle turned around to see the Beast clothed in only bandages and torn trousers dashing on all fours down the corridor. He saw her and slowed to stand up properly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine," Belle fixed her skirts. "I was just about to check on your arm. Was that an earthquake?"

"No," grumbled the Beast, his voice dripped with irritation.

"Did you do something accidentally?" Belle quirked an eyebrow.

"No," he huffed. "It was the rose."

"The rose?" Belle tilted her head.

"You'll be here for a while so you might as well be aware. Let me show you," the Beast gestured walking towards his apartments. They moved down the corridor into his chambers. The curtains were already open letting the late afternoon sun stream in. The Beast made his way to the far alcove where the rose remained encased atop of a pedestal. Belle stood still. The Beast's angry roar echoed in her mind from his fit of rage a week ago.

_'Do you know what you could have done?'_

"Oh um," Belle stammered, wringing her hands- "I don't want to pry."

The Beast stopped and turned around. 

_'I frightened her before,'_ he slouched remembering his rampage.

"It's alright," he mumbled quietly. "I behaved poorly last time. I'm sorry. I thought you were going to harm the rose. You may look but only look please."

Belle nodded and walked next to him by the marble pedestal. In the sunlight she could see three carved figures, sturdy and posed like Atlas at the pedestal base holding up the glossy stone table top. He removed the etched glass cloche to reveal the rose. 

The deep ruby bloom hovered glowing pink above the table. A fallen petal glowed with motes of light spreading onto the stone like fluffy flower seeds. The fushia light filled the wispy etched crevices in the shape of a large circle and a smaller circle within. Within that smaller circle was another circle and a glowing ten pointed decagram with symbols encasing another ten pointed star.

"Fascinating," Belle gasped at the glowing pattern. She peered reading the symbols within the stars and circles 

"As you can see a petal fell," the Beast gestured.

"And everytime a petal falls, the castle quakes?" Belle guessed.

"Yes," the Beast grunted.

"Curious," Belle studied the pattern further. They seemed to be ancient Greek symbols. She pointed "-What is this? Ares and Venus?"

"What do you mean?" the Beast frowned. "They're peculiar cursed marks, that's all."

"No. These symbols, they are for Ares or Mars," Belle shook her head, pointing"- Greek God of war and Venus; Roman Goddess of Love. She is also known as Aphrodite, in the Greek mythos. This is for Pluto; Roman God of the underworld. These two I don't know. The circle may be the sun though."

"You can read those?" Beast marveled.

"I know a little Greek and Latin when it comes to numbers, stars, and ailments," Belle nodded. "See, the outer ring has the astrological symbols of the year starting with the constellation Capricorn in January and ending with the stars of Sagittarius in December. The Greeks and Roman's adored knowing their fate based on the stars. I've read that spellcasters would use magic circles but I've never seen one up close. I mean, that is what I suppose this pattern is, right? And so these symbols within are the signs of the planets themselves!" Belle walked around the pedestal slowly observing the symbols with keen curiosity. 

"But, why Pluto then? And also these Roman numerals; fifty five, five and five again? So that I think is quinquaginta quinine, quinine, quinque...."

The Beast's ears feel fuzzy. His stomach churned and his vision blurred.

 _'Those words, that damn curse!'_ his mind raced. _'It's what she said that night.'_

"Stop!" he rasped. 

Belle looked up and gasped. The Beast's fur stood on edge and his eyes darted unable to focus. He was panting and seemed like he was about to retch. He looked awful.

"Are you alright?" Belle asked quietly, placing her hand on his good arm.

"Those symbols- you can read them?" he panted.

"Yes," Belle nodded.

"I didn't know," the Beast gasped for breath. It felt harder to breath. His chest clenched tight. It hurt. His head hurt. Everything was becoming blurry. "I didn't..."

"Is this your spell?" Belle asked calmly. 

"I told you I don't do magic," he snarled, shutting his eyes tight. "I'm cursed." That only made him more dizzy. He took several steps back until he felt the cold marble wall behind his back.

"Is this," Belle wondered aloud, "part of your enchantment then?"

The Beast wanted to run. He wanted to roar in anger. He wanted to punch the walls and rip away at the furniture. Anything to ease this awful spiraling feeling.

 _'She's here,'_ his mind screamed. _'You'll kill her!'_

"I'm sorry," he clenched his teeth trying to keep breathing. "I'm feeling... please...leave now.." he pointed at the door.

"Beast?" Belle stepped closer. Terror clenched her heart as she feared for his health. "Do you feel ill?"

"No..yes..." he growled. He whimpered as his heart hurt again as phantom pains spread through his limbs. Golden tendrils of magic had seared his very bones and flesh painfully changing him into this form. "Alone! Don't want to hurt on accident."

"Yes," Belle stood gaping in shock. "I'm sorry."

"Not you," he sank to the floor gripping his horns. ".. just go....Now!"

Belle grabbed her things and hurried out the door shutting it tight behind her. She could see he was in some pain but it was clear that his pain may turn to rage. 

_'Is it the magic?_ 'she walked back to her apartments. _'Does it make him hurt instead of freeze?'_

A roar bellowed behind her from the West Wing. It sounded frightening. His roars at the wolves had sounded angry and violent but now it sounded more like he was in agony. Belle's stomach churned at the sound, walking past the alabaster Greek goddess statues and into her room.

"Oh my!" Madame de la Grande Bouche gasped. "The Master sounds like he's having a fit again."

"He looked awful," Belle frowned, closing the door. "The only reason I left is because he asked me to. I didn't even tend to his arm."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Belle called and Mrs. Potts bounced into the room. 

"Oh, thank heavens," sighed Mrs. Potts. "You're alright, dearie?" Mrs. Potts hopped to the low table.

"Yes," Belle nodded. "I don't think the Beast is though. He appeared to be in a lot of pain suddenly."

"Well, the past is painful for him," Mrs. Potts sighed. Belle moved to sit by the fire.

"But he appeared to be in physical pain," Belle rested her elbow on the arm rest and her head on hand in thought.

"Cherie," the Madame chirped, "perhaps you have heard of soldiers returning victorious from battle only to shrink onto the floor crying when a door is slammed too hard? Or when a lady was struck too often by a governess, she will shrink and cower when her husband raises his voice? Memories can be terrible things. The past can haunt."

"But I only spoke Latin?" Belle retorted 

"Don't," Mrs. Potts stated with a firm tone. Belle was stunned. Mrs. Potts had never used that tone before.

"What happened?" Belle asked after a long silence.

"Too much," the Madame closed her eyes and appeared to droop.

"Was it the magic?" Belle tilted her head.

"Oh there is much more to it than that, dearie," Mrs. Potts sighed. "I'm sure you didn't mean to upset him."

"Don't fret about it cherie," the Madame cooed. "The Master will be alright. Give him time."

Belle nodded. 

"Would you like anything to drink or eat love?" Mrs. Potts asked. 

"A bit later please," Belle smiled. "I have some reading I'd like to review first."

She excused herself and walked into the study. Sitting at the desk she stirred the inkwell and sharpened a quill. 

She drew the circle to the best of her memory. She drew the symbols individually below as well trying to recall their planets, corresponding months, plants, and any other information she could remember.

_'If that spell is causing this much pain it may need to be undone. At least if I can understand it, I can help. The Beast calls it a curse but the staff do not._

_What in the world happened here?'_

* * *

The Beast felt the cold marble on his back and underneath him. He sat staring at golden sunlight reflecting off the Grecian marble floor. 

_'That cursed light,'_ his ears felt numb ringing with a high pitch noise.

It was the same gold color light that had doomed him to this awful form. He could feel his body trembling but couldn't stop it. Everytime he tried he found his body rocking back and forth like a madman.

Mad.

It all was mad.

Every moment in his life was mad. The whirling dresses of the royals and nobles, all drunk with power and wine. He was constantly drunk too. Cognac and wine to stop unwanted memories and instead help him enjoy the flesh before him.

It was the night of the debutante ball; an opportunity for the most beautiful daughters of the most prominent families to be courted. A stuffy old tradition where he was to select a girl who would be trapped with him for the rest of his life. An irritating chatterbox who would produce heirs and follow him around like an annoying dog. 

He was never to be King; his wrinkled grey father had constantly reinforced that fact throughout his life. He was a spare, a backup, in case the three other elder princes were to perish, however unlikely. They were all over a decade his senior and they had no concern about him. He had always known that and had been forced to retreat back to the summer mountain chateaux to govern a small countryside province once his father died. 

_'Keeping busy'_ as his ruling uncle had instructed; essentially a kill blow to his potential power in Versailles. His royal role reduced to a mere host of a summer entertainment castle. He played the role splendidly acting as a transitioner of jewels, fortune and good words from the Versaille royal secretaries to those who sought him and were sent to the Chatuex Pointenue. 

Years without any word directly from 'them'; the half brothers, and now a letter arrived a week prior demanding he would select a noble to marry or his current title and privileges of Prince would be revoked. The jingling bell covered sleds full of debutantes and their attendants had arrived five snowy December days later. The whole affair was outrageous. At least isolated here in the festive provincial castle he had escaped the constant gossiping and mocking of the royal court. Now he was being thrust into a marriage; stuck with a random woman until she was decrepit and produced a host of squabbling heirs to surround them. The prospect was gastly. 

He sat down in his father's old gold gilded throne viewing the crowded ballroom full of ladies dressed in white. They were all adorne in extravagant gowns and glittering jewelry like fancy peacocks. At least their attire was amusing. Their faces, however, all seemed to be a blur. All the same plastered smiles whether porcelain or forgein noir, painted false ladies.

A dozen of them; he had definitely shared a bed with from time to time whether it be here at the castle or back at Versailles. Their faces had been contorted instead moaning and screaming from ecstasy. No, he had not shared a bed with them, he used them. They were tools for his bedchamber adventures and they knew it. Choosing a prospective bride from that lot may prove entertaining, but disastrous if that lady sustained her flirtatious and amorous ways with other lovers as well. That wouldn't go well with the royal court, not that he truly cared for their opinion. He did care for his state funds however. Prestigious guests required enormous funds to entertain and he intended on enjoying those amusements regularly. That was all life was good for anyhow; entertainment and image.

Snapping his fingers, to indicate the start of the waltz, the first bars of a harpsichord began to play with a song dedicated to this event. He stood and strode to the floor and the ladies curtsied low. 

" _Oh how divine,"_ began the staccato soprano opera singer. 

Madame de la Grande Bouche and her accompanying husband Maestro Cadenza were situated on the small elevated stage in full opera regalia. They had spent the last six months at the castle at request of the Prince. The pair brought a scraggly small dog, Sultan who was always dressed in the most outrageous attire. He was seated on the gilded platform with them and apparently the Madame never left Rome without the jittery beast. Still an occasional yapping creature was a small price to pay to patron a famous Italian Diva who would readily perform songs with lyrics written by his own hand in a matter of hours. 

The Prince inspected the debutantes as the Diva carried on. This was not how he had hoped to spend the winter holidays so close to Christmas. Choosing a potential bride was not his idea of a gift giving. It was almost as bad as receiving historical tomes from his half brother one previous Christmas. As if he could read the shaky scribbled handwriting.

His ruling half brother believed this ridiculous event was symbolic. To choose a maiden to bear another royal heir as if it were a similar fashion of the Virgin Mary being chosen for the Christ child. It would appease the common folk. The Prince scoffed at the letter. Ridiculous religious ideology, but a boring chaste lady would have to do. He could always keep other company on the side. Maybe even a few established mistresses. He really hadn't given it much thought other than the thought of avoiding it. He didn't want to. The idea of choosing a lowly stranger for a wife was exhausting.

He fell into the steps of the twirling waltz and took an unfamiliar dancer by the hand. The gilded powdered wig lady sunk into his arms arching her back and smiling stupidly. Her eyes seemed to glisten.

 _'She thinks I've chosen her immediately, as if she's something special true love. Foolish girl. There's no true love,'_ he glanced over his shoulder searching for the next partner twirled over to another powered wig debutante. No sooner than he did that and he felt several hands reach out for his shoulder, his hand and his other arm. They were all trying to grab his attention. 

His heart pounded. He needed to run away but found himself trapped within a circle of the waltzing debutantes. He had to regain control of his breathing. The waltz was almost through. He could then step back to the isolation of his throne and calm his nerves with another glass of liqueur. He would need another glass anyhow before the tedious task of a promenade dance. He then realized the direction of the waltzing circle and strode opposite, looking for a gap to all but run through. He had to remain in control of his wits. He couldn't run. 

_'Dignified. Dignified'_ he repeated mentally with each step moving out of the whirl. People could either be dignified or disgusting disgraces; there was no inbetween.

Then she appeared. A cold wind had followed the hunchbacked hag in. The ladies and their attendants had huddled on the opposite side of the room away from the chill. The wind howled and blew out the candles leaving the ballroom shrouded in darkness.

" _A witch!"_ some whispered.

" _A sorceress!"_

Most of them scurried out of the room

 _'Superstitious idiots,_ ' he scoffed. This was but a muddy beggar woman who had wandered in from the snowy garden. He was furious. The servants were supposed to be guarding the castle, not allowing trespassers.

How dare they disobey _**him** ! _

How dare this filth appear before _**him** ! _

The servants made no move to remove her fearing their Master's wrath.

" _Please sir,"_ the hag's dry voice cracked, " _shelter an old woman from the bitter cold in exchange for a rose."_

Her hood was drawn low shadowing her pale sharp chin and downcast eyes black in the darkness. She reached out her veined cragged hand holding a deep red rose in full bloom. 

" _What use is a rose?"_ he waved her away.

" _Leave you old hag. Remove this trespasser at once! Throw her out into the snow!"_

Her stare caught his eyes. Her eyes were glittering black like a night sky and then the golden light appeared. The screams started. The pain began. He felt like he had been struck by lightning. It was like he was on fire. 

Fire. 

The flames and thorns tore at his hands.

He turned around in the rattling carriage glancing out the back window. His small eight year old hands stung and trembled wrapped in bandages within the oversized gloves. His head felt dizzy from the cognac given to him to numb the pain. Still his bottom ached from the punishment he had received from the heavy golden cane. Gray smoke rose from the castle as he left his home for far away Versailles.

He had raced out to the gardens to save a rose from the hacked piles of chopped up burning rose bushes. They were all on fire. His father had ordered it; the garden was to be burned. His mother's beautiful white roses were no more. 

He quickly turned around as his father's voice began to scold again. He stared at his elegant lace cravat with eyes blurring at the glittering diamond jewel brooch trying not to look into his cold eyes. He had to look at his father when spoken to, if not he would be punished. He tried to block out the sneering voice, but he already knew the insults by heart.

_"Plauge sore. Loiter sack. Waste of Breath. Dimheaded. Whoreson. Good for nothing. Wicked Goblin. Foul Monster."_

"I don't want to be a monster," the Beast shook on his bedchamber floor. 

The room felt stifling. He stood up on his clawed feet shaking and trudged to the balcony. The Beast swung open the balcony window door hearing some small panes shatter at the force. He didn't care. He just needed to be outdoors.

The Beast moved to sit and found himself instead laying on the balcony staring up at the sky. It wasn't sunset anymore. It was dusk with a blue sky dotted by growing stars. As it grew darker the stars appeared from the darkness and shoned even brighter. 

He didn't feel the cold wind very much through his thick fur. That thick fur which forced him to retreat into long cold ice baths whenever the weather warmed up. The thick fur which drove him mad with heat so much so that he even went far downstairs into the chill dank of the castle dungeon tower just to find some cool relief. 

A flash of white light streaked across the sky. 

Then another and another.

" _See Adam! A shooting star!"_

He recalled the pleasant voice from years ago.

" _There are going to be hundreds tonight! Just watch. Do you know their name dearest? They're called the Leonids after Leo the Nemean lion. He was destroyed by Hercules long ago. Shall I tell you the tale? Once upon a time, far away in Greece, there lived a mighty hero, a son of Zeus, named Hercules."_

He wanted to be cozily bundled up in blankets sipping hot chocolate staring off into the night listening to music playing. His father had been away at a hunting party staying at a forest lodge. He and his mother were free from his terrible reign that week. It was a childish wish.

The cold numbing air was just as good now.

He marveled that he could finally see the stars in the dark night sky instead of the hanging gray fog that had shrouded the castle. It was just him under the dashing meteors brightly flaring across the tens of thousands of glittering stars.

* * *

**Author concept image of Enchanted Rose spell circle (Best viewed on desktop)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally out there! I wrote this chapter three years ago and it's finally refined and out into the world! *giddy dance*
> 
> In the BATB 2017 side novel " Lost in A Book" they really play into the forces of god's and godesses. Hence all the hints to Greek mythology. I actually wish they delved into it more but c'est la vie.
> 
> I gave the Beast a bit of a panic attack here. If you find these similar thoughts and actions happening to you, please seek professional help. 
> 
> Negative memory hopping is common where you think of one bad event and then more compiled events are involuntarily remembered as your brain tries to recall why you are feeling so bad. 
> 
> Luckily, he has a distraction of the Leonids metor shower which happens every November. I suggest watching that or the Perseids in August in a dark sky zone like camping in a US National Park. It's breathtaking and the stars are so bright, you don't even need a flashlight. Just watch out for bears and moose🐻 🐍 Oh and wildcats and skunks.


	24. One step forward, Two steps back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast is ashamed of his emotions getting to him.  
> (What'd I say about that slow burn and angst?)

The Beast sat in his bedchamber in a wingbacked armchair suited to his bulk. He grunted in pain, pulling out a tiny shard of broken glass from the bottom of his clawed foot. It was no bigger than a bead but it was bloodied. The rest of the broken glass granules brushed off the bottom of his coarse leathery footpad with ease.

He had awoken to a dry taste in his mouth and a dizzy feeling. Birds flew above twittering in the overcast sky. The Beast then realized he had fallen asleep last night outside on the balcony. He moved indoors, putting on a burgundy cloak and roared as he felt glass crunch under his feet. The glass windows were damaged last night as he had flung open the balcony door. It had not been his intent to undo the new repairs but his sole focus was to quell the stifling feeling of his bedchamber. 

_'Falling asleep outdoors, disgusting,'_ he pulled the servant bell cord. The Beast slouched into the large chair. _'Uncivilized. Like a mangy animal.'_

He squeezed his eyebrows with his clawed fur covered hand in irritation. His throat tightened remembering the hazy view of Belle as he sank to the floor in pain. Her eyes furrowed as the pain in his head and chest made his eyesight blur and he begged her to leave before he unintentionally harmed her.

 _'I lost my senses infront of her again. It's so undignified,_ ' he groaned. _'I couldn't control the memories. It was too much. It's so damn humiliating._

_She knew the symbols too! They're Greek. So simple. I should know that! I shouldn't be so stupid with my letters, like a weak dumb child. She's so smart and beautiful. She reads so passionately and clearly. I could listen to her everyday for hours. It shouldn't be this way. She's a commoner damn it! I am royalty. I'm supposed to be wiser and more intelligent. Not some damn dumb monster! Why the hell is the world so backwards?'_

A knock sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Beast snarled more than he intended.

"Pardon me, Master," Cogsworth squeaked at the door. "How may I assist you?"

"Tea and breakfast," the Beast grumbled. "And clean up that glass."

"Ah, yes, I see," Cogsworth cleared his throat. "We had anticipated some damage after the... _disturbance_ last night." 

With a clap of his small golden hands, several feather dusters and brooms filed into the room. 

"Please excuse the interruption as we work." Cogsworth bowed low. The Beast squinted in irritation of Cogsworth's decision to describe _his_ anguished thoughts as a 'disturbance'. He waved at the servants to go about their work. 

_'The are all so quiet,_ ' the Beast noted watching the brooms and feather dusters work swiftly.

' _They were so rambunctious down the corridors the other day. I suppose their joy dies when I'm around. They are my servants after all and they are bound to my curse._

_They probably despise me. I'm not supposed to concern myself with their thoughts though. Even if I am a monster, I am **still** Master of this castle. I am **still** royalty. It's **still** my duty to reign over my subjects. _

_Is there truly a point to reigning them?'_ he scratched at his itching bandaged arm. 

_'It is my duty and birthright to rule but they seem to self govern just fine without any direct orders. It doesn't matter. Royalty is supposed to remain strong against common opinions and struggles.'_

"Good Morning Master," Mrs. Potts chirped, rolling in atop her serving cart. The scent of the dark rich tea, sweet berry scones and cured bacon filled his nostrils. Despite the delicious smells, he still felt displeased with himself.

"Good Morning," he responded curtly reaching for a child-faced teacup.

"It is good to see you up and about, Master," Mrs. Potts smiled. "Belle was so worried about you."

 _'She was?'_ his ears perked up. He shook his head to erase his foolish childish surprise 

"Is that so," he frowned, setting down the teacup child and stuffing a scone into his fanged mouth.

"Yes indeed," Mrs. Potts bobbed. "It seems that she's very concerned how you were faring."

"Why should she concern herself with me?" the Beast snarled, shaking his head. "I granted her freedom back so she isn't bound to me. It doesn't make sense."

"Sometimes, people just care," Mrs. Potts replied in a motherly matter of fact voice. "It's part of who they are."

 _'Why should she care?'_ the Beast rolled his eyes, picking up more food.

 _'Maybe it's pity?'_ his mind replied. _'She probably hates to see a wounded animal. She's not mad to desire any affection from a disgusting creature like me. That's impossible._

_I've been far too relaxed with these injuries. Monster or not, she is still below my birth station. I shouldn't be so attached to the attentions of a commoner no matter how well educated she is. I'm pitiful. It's absurd. We aren't of equal blood. I must remember that. Besides, she'll leave soon enough with winter's end. I'm not supposed to care how she thinks or feels.'_

The Beast growled with annoyance and scratched at the back of his wounded neck. He couldn't help but remember Belle crying on the prison cell floor when she first arrived. He couldn't help but recalled her horrified look when she discovered him in the West Wing. And he couldn't help remembering her giggling smile when she received the copy of King Arthur. 

_'I steadied myself against such weak emotions before. But why does she affect me so? Why am I so compelled to care for her happiness?'_

"Belle should be coming soon to change your bandages," Mrs. Potts cheerfully remarked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

 **"No!"** the Beast barked. The brooms and feather dusters gasped and froze in place. The small teacup shivered and hid behind Mrs Potts.

 _'I can't face her after last night,'_ his mind raced. _'This is all too much. It's too much to bear.'_

"Leave me be," he stood up tall with his cloak rustling. "No one is to disturb me."

"But, sir," Mrs. Potts cooed. "Belle does see to your wounds everyday. She's helping you stay on the mend."

"I said **no one**!" he boomed. "Is that clear?"

Cogsworth clapped his hands and the feather dusters and brooms exited the room hastily.

"Yes, Master," Mrs. Potts sighed wearily. She rolled away on the serving cart and the door was closed behind them. 

He locked the door. His sensitive ears heard the hushed whispers of the servants on the opposite side. 

_'That's how it always is,'_ he sighed feeling his horns scrape the door as he looked down. _'I am destined to be alone. To be a royal is to be superior and alone. How the hell am I supposed to be superior in this damn form? I'm a damn monster. But monsters are supposed to be alone too.'_

He scratched the fur at the back of his neck and felt the bandages coming loose. He moved to sit on his bed, removing the wrinkled white wraps from his neck and chest. He had just woken up but he still felt so tired. He flopped backwards onto the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm trying to block out the sunlight.

* * *

The enchanted staff watched as Cogsworth coaxed the door to close behind them leaving the ensemble in the dark corridor and in Lumiere's candleglow.

"Ahem," Cogsworth cleared his throat and straightened up as tall as he could. "Thank you all. You are dismissed. Please dispose of the debris and return to your duties." 

The feather dusters and brooms bowed and turned down the hall to do so. Lumiere gave one of the dusters a suave eyebrow raise and smile. She winked and blushed scurrying away to catch up with the others.

"Well, that's such a shame," Mrs. Potts sighed, hopping off the serving cart. It rolled away with the others to the kitchen with the little teacup.

"Yes, it's a pity," Lumiere gave her a consoling pat.

"It is to be expected, though, with the petal falling yesterday," Cogsworth nodded thoughtfully, placing his arms behind himself.

"True," Lumiere agreed. "Ze Master is always sulking afterwards. But he did call us to his chambers instead of completely recoiling.

"But what about Belle?" Cogsworth pointed out. "What are we to do about her?"

"They _must_ fall in love and he's shutting himself away in a mood again," Mrs. Potts stared at the floor in thought.

"Maybe Belle can coax him out?" Lumiere twirled his candle arm in thought.

"No," Cogsworth swayed in disagreement. "That will certainly backfire."

"Can you imagine if he loses his temper?" Mrs. Potts glanced at the ceiling above. "She might leave despite the snow."

"Ooooh," Cogsworth crossed his arms in frustration. "This is a conundrum."

"Shhhh," Lumiere waved at them. "Here she comes now."

"Bonjour," Belle called out walking up towards the large West Wing doors. "Is everything alright?"

"Why yes, Mademoiselle," Cogsworth cleared his throat, " but I am regretful to announce that the Master has instructed us to leave him in peace for the time being."

"Oh?" Belle's eyebrows knitted together confused.

"Unfortunately," Lumiere sighed crossing his arms and drooped," zat includes you as well, Mademoiselle. Our deepest apologies." 

"Pardon?" Belle blinked. "After the state he was in yesterday, he shouldn't be alone."

"We agree dearie," Mrs. Potts sighed "but it seems to be for the best right now."

"Well, I certainly don't think it's for the best," Belle pursed her lips. Belle strode past the magical staff, further down the corridor.

"Mademoiselle, please!" Cogsworth pleaded as the others gasped.

Belle walked up to the large doors. She knocked softly.

"Beast?" she called out cheerfully. " It's Belle. May I come in please?"

There was no answer. Belle knocked on the door gently again.

"Beast?" she chirped

"Go awaaaay!" she heard a loud muffled moan. He sounded so very tired to her ears.

"Beast are you well?"

Belle heard a roar sound muffled through the doors.

"I left _you_ alone," his deep voice pealed. "Why can't you leave me be?!"

Belle parted her lips unsure what to say. She hadn't intended to be intrusive. He _had_ left her alone after she refused his dinner invitation. For some reason, his words had stunned her and she remained blinking at eerie sculpture guarded doors.

"Don't worry Cherie," Lumiere sounded bouncing along next to her. "Ze Master was up and walking around earlier. Why, he's even eaten today."

"He'll be alright, dearie," Mrs. Potts reassured. "Just give him some time, love."

Belle glanced back at the three unsure what to do. The staff's words did reassure her logically, but some pain still lingered in her heart. It was strange. She sighed and placed her forehead on the door remembering his sensitive hearing.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you Beast," Belle said quietly. "I do hope you feel better soon."

She nodded to the others and made her way back to her bedchamber. Belle cast down her pack of bandages onto the chair near the fireplace and frowned.

"Is everything alright?" Madame de la Grande Bouche asked.

"Your stubborn Master has shut himself in," Belle crossed her arms.

"Oh?" the armoire Madame trilled. "Is that all?"

"You don't find it strange?" Belle shook her head.

"For him, no," Madame replied. "Why?"

"I just..." Belle hesitated.

 _'I've been allowed inside his chambers since he became injured,'_ Belle thought to herself twisting at her fingers. _'Not just for helping him, but also to read. I've never had a reading partner like him. I thought we had some sort of friendship but now he's shut me out. I almost f_ _eel like I'm being childish, missing his attention."_

"He'll be alright cherie," the Madame cooed. "Just grant him some space."

Belle shrugged. She was getting very tired of everyone telling her that, especially when she felt that he wasn't alright.

"Well, I'll be in the study," Belle waved, walking to the antechamber. Entering the study, she picked up the spread out papers with ink drying on the desk. Shuffling them into a stack, Belle thumbed through looking at her sketches and notes. The strange glowing magic circle engraved into the stone underneath the floating rose was a puzzle. She had pondered over it most of the night and most of the morning as well, but she had no answers. Despite her extensive notes of the ancient Greek legends and the corresponding attributes of the symbols, there were several symbols she did not recognize.

 _'I have no focus for this right now,'_ Belle sighed. The symbols continued to hold their secrets. She instead went into the small private salon to sit on the silky brocade sette with a blanket. It was still too early to lie in bed, but cozily resting and reading on the settee seemed perfectly acceptable. Belle pulled out the copy of King Arthur from her pockets but found herself unable to open it. She supposed she could read ahead in King Arthur, but, she was to read a few previous chapters to the teacups later tonight. 

_'I_ **_was_ ** _looking forward to reading with him today,'_ Belle sighed feeling the silk ribbons placed within the book pages. _'He's actually interested in what's happening in the story and he seems so happy talking about it as well. But he was in such a poor state yesterday.'_

Belle recalled the massive chimera man crumpled upon the floor and shivering in pain. His eyes had been darting wildly about. It was the same darting eyes he had from the day before when he had been insulting himself pulling at his horns.

_'Is that why he stays in bed with such lethargy? Are such hateful words a daily occurrence he inflicts upon himself? Are such phrases part of his melancholy?'_

Belle frowned as a horrid thought crossed her mind. _'No I doubt that.. he won't... he wouldn't harm himself...will he?'_

Belle huffed and flopped back to lay on the sette staring at the intricately gold painted vines and flowers seemingly entangled on the ceiling.

 _'Why must he be so secluded and mysterious? It's exhausting.'_ She shook her head. _'I need to distract my mind from worry. Chip has duties and cannot play at the moment, but I supposed I could further examine the galleries and apartments below.'_

A deep moan bellowed.

Belle felt her heart clench as every childhood wonder of ghosts and spirits entered her mind. She sat up and heard the howling sound again. 

_'The wind?'_ Belle assumed looking towards the gray wintery clouds in the window. She stood and padded toward the window to confirm her suspicion.

An icy cold breeze blew on her exposed forearm. Shivering from the cold, she noticed the breeze came not from the window but from the elaborately decorated wall. 

"That's funny," Belle remarked aloud. "I wonder..."

Belle squinted and pressed her ear against the cold gilded paneling. An echoing hollow noise resounded from the carved and painted border 

_'It must be a door,'_ Belle felt along the paneling. Her finger stopped at a gilded flower that seemed looser than the rest. Working the flower, it shifted and flipped forward like a latch. Belle then saw a small hook hidden behind the flower and pulled the hook towards her.

 _'I was right,'_ she smiled as the wall door swung open towards her. Dust fell and there was only cold howling darkness ahead.

_'The last passageway led to the kitchens. I wonder where this leads?'_

Belle went back to her bedchamber not at all surprised to find the Madame snoring away in the corner. Finding a single candlestick, Belle lit it, making her way back to the hidden door. She was ready to delve into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter after a very long delay but I simply had no time for editing. Thank you for your understanding and patience.


	25. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle explores another hidden passage and comes across a peculiar mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this out as quickly as possible so there may be not so sleep deprived editing later. I know lots of folks will need a break from reality today being the US 2020 election day so here is your slice of escapism as I stand waiting at the polls.

Belle stepped into the darkness of the hidden passage with a candlestick in hand. She could hardly see anything with the candle glow flickering in the strong draft. While the former passageway had white plaster walls and was somewhat tidy, this narrow place was dank with old exposed lumber.

Everything was covered in a film of thick grime and dust. The floors creaked with each step and the wind howled high above. Looking up Belle saw wispy cobwebs suspended in a tall endless darkness. 

Almost as soon as she walked forward, Belle was met with a wall. She was forced to turn left. Looking back, Belle saw the dust motes float about in the light of the salon door. Doubt crossed her mind, wondering if wandering further was indeed a bad idea. Curiosity won her over and she carried on. 

_'This must lead somewhere or else there wouldn't have been a latch,'_ Belle shivered in the chilly dark. _'The storybooks always go on about hidden passages leading to secret places and treasures. I should have brought a shawl though.'_

The passage soon turned to the right. Belle ventured onward and came upon a small flight of nearly rotten wooden stairs ahead. Once she reached the top, she almost immediately had to go down another flight. Continuing straight ahead she reached another flight of eight stairs upward and eight stairs downward. 

_'I do hope this isn't a consistent obstacle,'_ Belle feared that the old wood may give under her weight. The passage then curved, veering along a rounded wall. Belle continued confused by the design.

 _'Like the Minotaur's maze,_ ' she mused.

The dark passage remained straight ahead for some time, until Belle wondered if she should turn back. No sooner did the thought cross her mind when Belle reached a dead end. At the end was a wooden door barred by a single plank set across the middle. She set down her candle and heaved away the heavy plank setting it aside. Trying to push the door open with her hand, the door hardly budged. 

Belle put her full weight against the door and heard a chair slide slowly on the other side of the door. Dust fell onto her chocolate brown hair. She covered her mouth, coughing and brushing it away. Picking up the candle, she blew it out and stepped into the daylight of the unknown room. Blinking and adjusting to the dim light, Belle found herself within another cabinet of study with an elegant desk in front of her. 

The desk was placed so that the writer sat in front of three tall multi-paned windows. The cloudy gray skies dimly lit the cold room.

A large door was across from the desk so that the writer may see who was entering and another smaller door was across from her. Both were bordered with a frame made of carved twisting thistles and thorns. It reminded Belle of the same design of the Beast's bedchambers only much colder and less lived in. However, the study was less chilly than the windy dark passageway.

Closing the wall door behind her, she placed the heavy large brocade chair back in place. The hidden door blended seamlessly with the other gilded panels. 

"Hello?" Belle called out to any staff that were within the room. The room remained silent with no response. Walking in front of the desk and across the room, Belle moved to the smaller door opposite of her. She turned the handle only finding it to be locked. Puzzled, Belle walked towards the larger door on the opposite side of the room. Belle peaked her head out into the dim corridor.

 _'The passage leads to the West Wing'_ Belle noted the familiar sparse candlelight and grotesque statues. Belle retreated back into the cabinet.

Looking about, Belle marveled at a splendid silver mirror hanging above an unlit fireplace. Belle walked over to the empty fireplace mantle and observed that the mirror was all tall as she was and wider than her arms stretched out. The silver frame itself was a work of art; gilded with silver rounded birch, and aspen leaves, and magnolia flowers.

A winged helm decorated the very top of the mirror. A rounded cluster the size of her hand of silver caste crocus flowers decorated the bottom of the mirror. Belle squinted to try and make out the insignia on the helm but gave up on it. It was up too high to see.

Looking at her own pale reflection, she saw the shelves behind her were in fact bookshelves. There were so few books that she almost didn't notice. She turned avoiding the sette and chairs set out in front of the fireplace. Inspecting the shelves covered with grand trinkets and baubles, she read the titles of the sparse books. Belle noted that they were mostly ledgers, contents of law, history, accounting and some other forgien titles.

She then spotted a thick dusty cover;" The Complete Works of William Shakespeare". Belle scooped it off the dusty shelf. She flipped through the pages reaching a table of contents and smiled. She noticed a list of illustrated pages. 

_'This would be fun to wave at Gaston. He's always complaining about no pictures in books,'_ Belle smirked. 

Belle shook her head. She hadn't thought of him in days. It was unusual. Everyday she had to think of how to avoid him in the village. Even when she didn't think of his advances, the other villages would bring him up in conversation.

_'I didn't realize how ill at ease he was making my life. I suppose once I return I'll have to face his advances once more. He wanted nothing to do with me when I first arrived there. He was so much older, already twenty and a veteran. Then I turned thirteen and he started scolding me; telling me not to read and how to dress. Telling me I was too thin and hard working. He wanted nothing to do with my hopes or my happiness. The others got in on it too.'_

Belle remembered the Baker's wife handing her a fresh sweet bread for her fourteenth birthday lecturing her.

" _You'll never catch a husband if you don't fill out girl. You must wear your hair with some ribbons and curls to get a good man."_

Belle started wearing her hair more loose in a ribbon after that, no longer in a tight braids but as loose and free as any man's hair. 

Belle felt her blood boil remembering it now.

' _A husband. That's all those people cared about. Seeing me docile and married. Even if it's to the person I dislike. I don't think I would mind marrying the right person, but certainly not anyone in the village. Ladies of society wouldn't even be introduced to society until they were sixteen or even eighteen for some. The village girls are already married with children by then.'_

Belle looked toward the window in thought.

 _'Beast did say that I could take compensation for my trouble here. Maybe I could ask him for some funds to leave the town. Papa could do much better in a small city with his inventions now. Maybe not Paris but Hagneunaugh. We could always repay him once Papa is tinkering again. Maybe then I could see the world. That is, if Papa is still alive,'_ Belle felt tears well up as the dark thought crossed her mind. She still did not know if her father had survived the prison cell or succumbed to illness.

She returned to the book trying to delve in and away from her worries. She turned the page and a detailed illustration of the Theater in England was beautifully drawn with a flag atop the rounded building.

"I want to see the performance so bad," Belle whispered to herself. 

Belle heard whispered voices distorted as if heard through a metal pipe. Belle looked up to see if there was a metal servant she had missed within the room. The large mirror above the fireplace was glowing like an eerie green moonlight. 

_'It's coming from the mirror!'_ Belle clutched the book to her chest as the voices grew louder. She hesitated but crept closer. The voices grew clearer as the mirror glass rippled like water. 

Belle could see two people within as if she was peering through a window. A man and a woman were both richly dressed in fanciful costumes and adorne with circlets on their brows. The woman stood at a window and the man below in a garden. However, the garden wasn't real. It was clearly wood and canvas painted to look like a rose garden in the night. While they spoke to one another they were very exuberant with their gestures. They spoke in another language, but Belle could tell what she was viewing in the mirror. It was Romeo and Juliet being acted out right infront of her very own eyes.

Belle lifted up her hand to try and touch the glass. The green glow made her fingers tingle like the feel of sheep's wool rubbed atop of hair for amusement. This felt so much stronger though almost like the prick pine needles. She thought it may pain her and pulled back her hand deeming it unwise to touch the mirror. Belle pondered for a moment and decided to test another theory.

"Pardon me," Belle apologized to the mirror she had missed. "May I see the play in French so I may understand it please?"

The mirror glowed pale green again and the mirror glass rippled once more. Three men stood on a plain stage in plain attire. They spoke amongst each other until the words were clear.

_"I bite my thumb, but not at thee sir,"_

Belle's eyes grew wide. It was a rehearsal she was viewing, but it was the play nonetheless. She sat on the couch facing the mirror and grinning widely. Her leg bounced with excitement as she found herself clasping a pillow as the actors went over the mechanics of the false knives and scarves of theater blood. After a while the actors called for a break and the mirror's window image faded to her own glassy reflection. 

Belle stood and carefully touched the mirror's now silver frame. Even though no furniture had greeted her within the room, the mirror was clearly enchanted. She suspected the helm may be it's head and assumed it could not talk like Chapeau.

"Thank you so much," Belle smiled.

It did not respond. Belle tilted her head.

 _'Has it fallen asleep like Madame?'_ Belle wondered.

"Hello there, I'm Belle," she went on. "I do need to see to my horse now but that magic was splendid. I can't tell you how happy it made me. I would like to return tomorrow, if that's alright."

The mirror did not respond. It neither wobbled or bent to respond. Belle's reflection merely stared back at her in the large mirror and silver ornate frame.

"Well, I'll be off then. Good night," Belle set the book back upon the shelf and left out the main door into the West Wing corridors.

She made her way out to the stables and dinner. Reading to the teacups, she was reminded of her disappointment with the Beast not reading with her earlier. Still, she felt giddy with her new find of the hidden passage and the magic mirror.

* * *

_'I'm in a dream!_ ' the Beast groaned laying on the floor. _'It has to be a dream! I just can't wake up! Maybe I am ill with a fever or poisoned?'_

He was practically nude save for the ill fitting torn trousers. Most in his bedchamber had been destroyed as he smashed and clawed his rage through the furniture. His uncomfortable shirts had been ripped to shreds by his claws and the mirror's within the room were all destroyed. 

His winter debutante fete was interrupted by the appearance of a strange woman. What followed was a bizarre pain and light transforming him into a monster and his servants into household items. The courtiers and their escorts seemed to have run away and vanished from the castle entirely. 

It was ridiculous. It had to be a dream. There was nothing else to do save for lying in wait to wake up from this strange nightmare. The scent of burning metal filled his nostrils and made his head spin. Groaning in irritation he stood up noticing the strange golden glow from his cabinet de study.

"She's back!" he heard his voice sound with an unfamiliar animal snarl.

Throwing open the door he saw a new silver mirror glowing golden bright above the fireplace mantle. 

"Damn witchcraft!" Beast cursed running towards the large mirror. Dream or not, he had enough of magic. His feet felt cold and clumsy with no shoes and claws protruding from them. He fell down onto his bulky arms and pushed himself up to stand properly. He ran to rip the glowing mirror off the wall. A flash of light sparked lighting and he was thrown back onto the floor. His body felt stiff and in pain as he spasmed on the floor. Regaining his control, his nerves felt on fire and he curled onto all fours, struggling with the pain. 

"Greetings mortal Prince," a melodic voice sounded. He turned his head and saw her reflection in the mirror. It was the enchantress. He looked behind him and saw no one standing there. The golden curly hair enchantress was speaking to him through the mirror.

Dread filled him. This was not a dream. This body and this pain; it was real. And it was all her fault. 

"YOU!" he roared, moving to stand. "How dare you! You'll pay for your crimes against the crown hag!"

He ran to rip down the mirror and shatter her image into a thousand pieces. Lighting flashed once more and he woke up on the floor coughing for breath.

"Thou shall not harm my gifts if thou wishes to remain unharmed. Be gracious."

The Beast snarled, clenching his buzzing fists enraged by her words. He moved to sit up despite the pain of the mirror's lightning. 

"I appear to guide thou in this the will of the mirror so thou may educate thine soul with haste. Be vigilant. This mirror cannot show things that once were nor things that have not come to pass. This mirror shall show things that are. All one must do is speak thy heart's desire."

"Stop your riddles wench! I command you to change me back."

"Thou has no authority over celestial will. Now go, make use of thy gifted time."

"No!" the Beast roared. "Halt!"

The golden glow of the mirror shifted color to a strange green and the enchantress image vanished into the reflective glass. All the Beast could see was the twisted horror of his monstrous face within the mirror. He reached for the mirror to smash it but felt a prickling sharp feeling as he drew his fist back. He snarled, not wanting to be struck by the magic lighting once again.

"Show me the witch!" he shouted at the mirror. The silver reflection rippled like water and the green glow turned to gold once more.

The enchantress with her glowing slender arms crossed over her silver robes appeared.

"Did I not recommend to make use of thy time?" her eyebrow raised. She pointed at him. "GO!"

Light flashed once more and the Beast jolted awake.

His room was filled with sunlight. There was no enchantress and his room was clean. 

He had been dreaming of the days when he had changed into this grotesque form. The first day after his transformation he thought he might be trapped within a deep sleep nightmare. Then the enchantress appeared in the mirror to guarantee his dreaded thoughts. He then understood it was his Father's fault for placing him in such an unpowerful position. He tore at the royal portrait in his bedchamber wanting nothing more than his mother to help him. 

The beast dragged his clawed hands over his face brushing away the sleep. The nauseating smell of the enchanted mirror's burning magic still filled his nostrils.

His ears perked up at the sound of female laughter. 

_'The mirror,'_ the Beast sniffed the metallic air. His heart sunk knowing that the enchanted mirror was amiss.

* * *

Belle was happy to return to the West Wing the next day taking the familiar route through the corridors. Instead of seeing the Beast, however, she was intent on viewing the mirror once more. She had guessed that the mirror could show her even more performances and hoped to try out her theory. Belle knocked on the door in the afternoon.

"Bonjour," she called out as she entered the cabinet of study. "I hope you are well today." She sat on the couch and arranged her skirts better 

"If you could please show me another play or opera performance in French, that would be wonderful," she clasped her hands in excitement. 

The mirror glowed it's green light again and through the rippled glass appeared the image of a large theater curtain. Brass instruments played a joyous melody. The curtain finally opened as the overture finished to a crowd of singing performers and dancers.

Belle watched as the performance continued. It was a tale of the Princess of Navarre taken captive by the King of Castile. Belle was familiar with the name of the opera, but she had never seen or read much about it. Through song and dance shown on the mirror, the princess escaped in disguise and took refuge with a Don Morillo. Another character Alamir recognized the Princess and fell in love with her meanwhile rejecting the love of a court lady. While the story could have been serious given it's subject of kidnapping, Belle found it was presented in a very comical manner. 

She burst out laughing at Alamir's ridiculous eyes bugling out and the Princess's dramatic eyerolling. The curtain closed for the first act but remained visible in the mirror. It was as if she was watching a play through a window. Belle was certain she was grinning absurdly in the glass. 

"Belle?" a low voice rumbled from behind her.

Belle turned her head to the voice. The Beast stood in his wine colored cloak. It appeared he had entered through the locked door.

"Beast!," she grinned, twisting around on the couch. She didn't think she would see him for days. "You're awake. Thank goodness."

"What are you doing in my study?" he stared at the mirror perplexed by it's glow. He had been dizzy with a headache in his chambers and heard peals of laughter. The accompanying distinct smell of burning metal made him warry and investigate.

"Oh!" Belle exclaimed in embarrassment and stood up. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware. I didn't mean to intrude. I found a passageway and it led me here," she twisted her fingers. "I can leave if want me to." 

_'I didn't mean to use_ **_his_ ** _magic mirror or wander into his apartment,'_ Belle thought, walking closer to the Beast and waiting for his response. _'I know he needed some space alone. I hope he's not cross,'._

"I knew my Aunt's passage was still around," he knit his eyebrows together. " I could never find it."

 _'Just proving how pitiful I am,'_ Beast pouted. _'A commoner can find a secret royal door better than a royal. Idiot.'_

"Well, it was blocked from inside," she shrugged. "That would have made it difficult for anyone."

"Anyone but you," the Beast's shoulders drooped. "You're always clever." 

Belle bit her lip. She could see the Beast was lingering in a sad state. He hadn't told her to leave. Unsure what to do she stepped closer to him.

"The mirror is amazing," she gestured to the mirror. "It shows all sorts of plays. It seems it can't speak though. Chapeau is the same way."

"It is not a servant," Beast snarled at the mirror.

"Oh? It isn't. What is it then?"

"It's a curse."

"What do you mean?" Belle glanced back at the mirror in confusion.

"It shows you what you wish to see, but those images only cause pain," Beast's shoulders drooped.

"I'm not sure, that play was pretty funny to me," Belle crossed her arms. "Wait!" Belle gasped.

"What's the matter?" his eyes went wide with concern. Belle put her knuckle to her lips in thought. 

"It can show me...anything?" Belle furrowed her brows. "Not just performances."

"Yes," Beast nodded. He lifted a clawed finger to explain "-just not the past and not the future. This mirror can show you anything you wish to see. Anything that currently exists it can show. If you try otherwise it will harm you. Another part of it's curse."

 _'She shouldn't get hurt needlessly,_ ' the Beast squinted as Belle looked back at the mirror. He found he didn't mind her within the study, but he didn't want to see her shocked by the mirror's lightning. He had faced that lighting when asking the mirror who could break the curse 

"Can it show me my Papa?" Belle softly asked.

"Probably," Beast shrugged, trying not to be moved by her hopeful face.

"I just want to know if he is alive," Belle sighed and slouched." I miss him so much."

 _'Damn it,_ ' Beast cursed inwardly. 'I _hate seeing her so downhearted. It's my doing for making her stay here needlessly. '_

"Go ahead and ask it," Beast gestured.

Belle felt her stomach drop. She would know the truth about her Papa right in a moment. It was nerve wracking. Walking up to the mirror she now saw the reflection of her face and the Beast towering behind her.

"I would like to see my father," Belle nervously asked. "Please?"

The silvery reflective surface of the mirror rippled and glowed a soft green. Belle could hear the Beast making a grunt of dissatisfaction.

The mirror changed to show the outside of Belle's cottage home. The wooden water wheel was stopped for the winter and smoke wafted out of the chimney. The cottage was snow covered and the reflection image spun around back to the small overhang stable. 

Maurice sat on a stool near the goats with his brown cloak wrapped about him. He had a wooden pail in hand and threw feed about the yard as fluffy chickens greedily gobbled up the seed. 

"He's alive!" Belle squeaked, bringing her hand up over her mouth. Relief washed over her. Her Papa seemed downtrodden with his slouch and messier mop of white hair, but he was alive. She watched him set down the pail and give the goats a pat. The old Billy goat was very happy to have his head and horns scratched. Maurice moved taking the stool back inside and the image turned back to silver. Belle looked downward away from the mirror. Beast's sensitive ears could hear Belle's shuddered crying breath.

 _'That was supposed to make her happy,'_ Beast sighed. _'Joy really does die around me.'_

"Thank you," Belle turned around to face him.

Even though tears were in her eyes, she was smiling. "Thank you so much!"

Belle was so grateful. All the fear of her Papa being ill or worse was washed away as she felt tears fall. The Beast gulped in confusion and Belle sniffled back her tears. She couldn't stop grinning and walked closer to Beast giving him a grateful pat on his good arm. 

"Since you are up," she pulled out a handkerchief from her gown pocket and dabbed away the tears "let me see to that arm. Just a few minutes."

"It's fine," Beast scoffed at his joy. Belle, a commoner had touched him, royalty with such ease. He had to remember their stations. But, he was glad she was happy and would not ruin her mood by rebuking her.

"Oh?" Belle smirked at his stubbornness. "I doubt that " 

She lunged and flicked his arm just above the wound.

"GAH!" the Beast jumped back in pain cradling his forearm. "Why did you do that?!"

"See, it's not fine," Belle gestured. "It was healing, but I haven't seen to your wounds in two days. It seems that you don't favor my care."

 _'Or our time,'_ Belle wanted to say but kept that thought to herself looking down at her feet. She didn't want to appear childish.

"Fine," he grumbled and walked back into his bedchamber from the side door. The sting in his arm ached and he realized that he still did need her medical care despite his attempts to pull away.

 _'I do favor your care,'_ he wanted to reply. _'This is just too much for our stations. You are going to leave. I shouldn't get attached to a commoner._ '

Belle followed from the door into the antechamber and then the bedchamber.

Beast moved to sit on his reclined chaise.

"Alright then," Belle grinned. " I'll fetch my bag and return in a moment."

Beast nodded watching her hurry out the doors with a spring in her step. He leaned back resting on the chaise.

 _'Her home is so tiny,'_ he mused. _'But I'm more surprised how clean it seems. It's not like the filthy hovels I've been told about.'_

Peasants were notorious for being dirty but her cottage though, very plain appeared to be the picture of pastoral idealism. A clean white stone stairs lead to a porch, pristine clay shingles, bright green shutters. The blanket of snow only added to the charm and a smokey chimney made the promise of a warm hearth inside. He easily imagined possible spring flowers that would run along the edge of the cottage and a green growing lawn.

 _'Is that what she meant?'_ Beast wondered. _'Preferring riches of the heart over riches of the earth? She often complains about the villagers but not of her home. She burst out into tears of joy when she had seen her father and the home. She must miss him terribly. I know I would have given anything to have my mother again._

_I am such a fool. She could have left earlier if I had only spoken to her sooner. If I had a sleigh and team she could ride home within the day.'_

Then the thought crossed his mind. The stables no longer were running with teams of horses or coaches but there still was the coachman. His cursed form reflected his old body, once with a wooden leg replacing a lost leg, his carriage body now had no wheels. Instead of rolling along, he crept on the wheel spokes.

_'It would be a bumpy ride in the snow but it would keep her safe from the winter weather. Better that she leaves now before I grow too fond of her companionship. That would only lead to more misery.'_

"Here now," Belle called out, entering the bedchamber. She held her canvas pack open in her arms and she was reaching in for a bottle. "This is the last of this tincture, but I'm sure I can make another strong batch in the kitchens."

The Beast smelled a rosemary like scent as she uncorked the bottle. He sat up tall on the chaise as she dabbed at his forearm and neck. Sitting next to him on the chaise she rewrapped the healing gashes on the arm. 

"Belle," Beast started. "Do you like your home?"

"Why yes?" Belle chuckled. 

"Even though it is so small? Even though you dislike the villagers."

"It is small, but Papa is the only family I have. Maybe one day we'll be able to make a new home in the city, but for now, well, home is where the heart is."

"I suppose that's true," Beast nodded. He remained silent unsure of how to proceed. Belle felt the silence to be just as uncomfortable but focused on tucking in the bandages.

"Belle, I have an idea," Beast squinted in thought. "I know you miss your father and want to be home. What if you take the coach home instead of waiting for the spring? You can always come to collect Philippe later in the spring."

Belle recalled the carriage with no wheels taking her father back to the village. It moved like a spider crawling on it's undercarriage into the night forest. It had taken her several hours to come across the castle in good weather. She imagined it may take all day to return in the snow. Inside, she could stay warm with blankets through the long cold journey and then she would be home and free.

"Actually," Belle started, "that may work. Do you believe it will make it through the snow and through the mountainside safely?"

"I think so, but, if you want to test if it's suitable... try it out, we can see."

Belle couldn't imagine the crawling carriage ride would be an easy one in the slippery snow. But if it was a chance to go home, she would be brave and take it.

"Yes," Belle nodded. "Let me give it a try. It would be wonderful to get home before spring."

"Here then," he stood up. "Out we go."

He offered her his paw out of old habitual courtesy. He hardly knew that he did the courtly habit until Belle smiled accepting his manners and set her soft pale hand into his. His fuzzy hands felt rough and leathery on his large palms and she felt as if she was a small child. She hadn't noticed how much she had grown accustomed to his large frame.

The Beast felt a lump in his throat but didn't dare to set his hand down. It would be rude to take his arm away. Besides, it was simply divine to feel her warm fingers gently press down into his extended palm. They walked out of the bedchamber and down the West Wing towards the stairs.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!📚🥀🥀🥀🥀
> 
> n the original Batb, Belle finds a room of windows that open up to show different ongoing theaters. Basically the equivalent of a big room with lots of tvs set to different shows. So I wanted to play on that and add additional magical elements to the castle. I mean, every castle needs secret passageways right? 
> 
> I tried to do my research looking up popular composers of the mid 18th century to know what Belle might have been able to watch as many plays and operas are performed centuries after they are written. Jean-Phillipe Rameau was a popular French musician and composer and wrote the comedy opera Princess of Navarre along side the famous Voltaire. Voltaire greatly admired Rameau's work but found him a demanding artist claiming this;  
> "Poor Rameau is mad...Rameau is as great an eccentric as he is a musician"  
> It was difficult to hunt down the opera music on a time crunch but the links below lead to the surviving spotify songs: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/7ftk3B5aWXPif7orbKuT7Q?si=mT1P44M4ToG--RGlRDWYcQ 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0lSIPEBdwSACZFquudvKgl?si=mIsx59-US36mFGLDPYO7gA 
> 
> Also note; In the Disney Beauty and the Beast 90s comics, Belle in her childhood flashbacks has two pigtail braids, so I reference that here. 
> 
> Also also note that the original Shakespearian Globe Theater was originally called ' The Theater' located at Shoreditch. It was built in 1576 outside of London proper due to the local theater bans to deter the ongoing plague, and was destroyed in a fire in the 17th century.  
> Info and pics can be found here>>>  
> http://shalt.dmu.ac.uk/locations/theatre-1576-98.html


	26. Bumpy Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Beast continue try to find a safe way for her to return home. Belle also encourages Beast to read.

Belle and Beast made their way from the dark West Wing towards the earthy glow of the Grand Lobby. Belle's hand was as fair as marzipan resting in the Beast's dark leathery palm. Even though Beast's heart was pounding absurdly, he dare not take his large hand away.

 _'It's sweet that he's trying to be gentlemanly,'_ Belle thought to herself.

They reached the Tudor designed stairs leading down to the lower levels of the castle. Belle took back her hand to raise her castle-sewn skirts ever so slightly in order to descend the stairs. She was still not used to the 'kick step' descending method that Madame de la Grande Bouche described to go down the stairs. Belle assumed it would take practice.

"Master! Mademoiselle!" Lumiere bowed low as they reached the third floor. 

"Bonjour," Belle nodded. 

"Perfect," Beast grunted. "Lumiere, go rouse the Coachman. Belle is going to take a short ride into the woods."

"Yes, Master," Lumiere half smiled. "Of course, but don't you think that Mademoiselle's safety might be at risk beyond the castle gates?"

"Of course I'm aware of that," Beast growled at Lumiere in irritation.

"That's why this is a test," Belle glared at Beast. He was being gentlemanly to her but upon seeing Lumiere it seemed he slipped back into rudeness. Beast looked away feeling oddly ashamed for some reason. 

"A way to see if I can return to the village before winter really sets in," Belle explained to the candelabra man.

"Return to the village?" Lumiere's mouth hung wide for a moment before his charming candle grin returned. "But of course! Just a moment Mademoiselle. I shall fetch him at once." Lumiere bowed again. Lumiere hopped on to the banister and slid down to the second floor below.

"Good. Go," Beast grunted as Lumiere hopped out of sight into a servant stairwell.

"You shouldn't be so short with them," Belle huffed, crossing her arms. "Lumiere didn't do anything wrong. He's only trying to help."

"I know," Beast pouted. 

"Well don't tell me," Belle shrugged. "You should apologize to him for being impatient."

 _'Is that why I feel this way?'_ Beast wondered.

"But, I'm the Master of this castle," he explained outloud.

 _'Does he truly not know?'_ Belle observed his confusion.

"You do understand," Belle tilted her head "-it is common courtesy and general decency to admit when you've wronged someone, even if they are your employee? They have feelings too."

"I've heard that before," Beast's eyebrows knitted together. "I think that's what my Mother said but my Father disagreed."

"I believe your Mother was the wiser," Belle retorted.

"Perhaps," Beast grunted. He remembered being scolded by his father if he apologized to the servants or even spoke to the servants regularly. 

"He was cruel," Beast's face scrunched up with thought. 

"Just say _'sorry for being short'_ the next time you see him, alright?" Belle swayed to continue walking down the stairs. "It costs nothing to be courteous."

The pair took their time descending to the Grand Lobby as Belle asked about certain paintings lining the corridors. Beast was very opinionated about how certain ones were boring, or absurdly over done. He even remarked that a portrait of a particular Duke was extremely false.

"His skin was never that smooth. It was completely poxed and powdered and he had wooden teeth," Beast snarled. Belle was curious how the Beast could know a Duke from half a century ago but didn't press the issue. The castle was enchanted after all and she did not want the Beast to fall into a fit of pain by provoking an explanation.

"Your Highness. Mademoiselle," Cogsworth greeted them in the Grand Lobby near Chapeau. "I heard that you will be journeying into the forest. Are you certain this is wise?"

"I won't know until I try," Belle shrugged and took her cloak from Chapeau. "No need to fret Cogsworth. I'll be careful."

The clockman wrung his golden arms in worry, as the two exited out into the golden afternoon sun and snow. The wheeless large coach waited for Belle at the foot of the entrance steps. Belle stepped carefully, taking her time, wary of the black ice that might be on the steps. 

"Bonjour," Belle nodded as the coach door opened. Beast offered her his hand so that she could enter the wheeless carriage with ease.

"Is it alright?" Beast leaned down low to see Belle seated within. 

"Yes," Belle looked around at the worn out glass. "I think this will do," The leather and fabric interior worn out from the weather as well.

"Just give it a try, for a few minutes down the road," Beast nodded. "She is not to be harmed! Is that understood? If you encounter any sort of danger, return straight away!"

Belle felt the coach bob and then they started off. Each step of the carriage on the cobblestone path wobbled and bobbed as the wheeless carriage tried to remain steady on the icy cobblestones. Belle looked out the window to see they were crossing the bridge very slowly. Belle was thrown forward into the seat in front of her. She could tell the coach slipped about the icy path. She heard a deep metallic groan and assumed it was an apology of sorts.

"It's alright," Belle readjusted herself. "I'm fine."

The coach reoriented itself and they continued out the ornate iron gate into the forest. 

Inside, Belle swayed right, left, right, left as the coach's spider-like walk rocked her about. She was used to horseback riding, but this was something else as the uneven steps bobbed nauseating her. Peering out the old glass she could see the snow was high past the footstep. High snowy banks were on each side of her. She then felt pushed back into her seat as the coach was trying to climb over a snow mound. It was not working.

Belle felt the coach jolt upward. She felt lightweight for a moment before rattling back down into her seat. Belle braced herself as the coach jumped into the snow again and again. It appeared that the coach could no longer walk in the high snow but was forced to jump like a rabbit. 

Belle's stomach turned and her mouth felt acrid as the bouncing continued. Bile raised to the back of her throat as she felt hot and clammy.

"Stop! Please! " Belle called out covering her mouth as soon as she yelled. The carriage stopped and she forced open the door. Belle heaved herself out into the waist high snow and retched all the contents of her stomach. 

She heard the coach creak with a groan as she hurled again.

"I'm sorry," she panted after a few dry heaves. "I can't. Thank you for trying. I'll walk back."

Belle moved into the path the coach's weight had carved out in the snow. She noticed that the snow had blown down off the mountain heights and ridges to be shoulder height in some places. The coach creaked behind her following slowly as they made their way towards the castle. Reaching the castle gates and the bridge, Belle met the Beast at the foot of the castle stairs.

"Belle?" Beast called out concerned. He saw her hair was disheveled and the rosey color of her cheeks gone. Her skin had turned almost flour white. "Are you well?"

"No I'm not," she groaned, feeling her stomach pain her and her mouth taste of bile. Her teeth chattered from the bile sickness and winter cold.

"I need a cup of tea or else I might empty my stomach again," Belle started slowly up the stairs gripping her uneasy stomach.

 _'She looks terrible,_ ' Beast frowned. _'You fool! This was a bad idea.'_

"Here, you might fall," Beast stood next to her, putting his large arm on her back. Belle couldn't help but lean into the weight of his warm torso. Her cheek pressed against the soft dark brown fur of his side.

"Thank you," she whined, feeling the dizziness overwhelm her. 

They reached the Grand Lobby and heard Mrs. Potts call out. She drew near upon her serving cart with a teacup child. Belle took a slow sip of the peppermint tea offered to her. The Beast's arm was still wrapped around her to steady her nauseous swaying and she was grateful for his help. She took another sip and smiled, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

"Thank you," Belle sighed happy to get rid of the taste in her mouth

"Into the Embroidery Salon loves," Mrs. Potts. "You need to warm up."

Belle nodded tiredly as Chapeau took her cloak. Belle's eyes were closed from dizziness and the headache she now had. Stepping slowly she groaned quietly towards the salon. The Beast walked behind her unsure if she would fall. He set his hand between her shoulder blades ushering her into the salon. Lumiere stood within coaxing a warm blazing fire as Belle plopped down into a wingback arm chair. Beast sat in the chair opposite of her.

"Well that was a good idea, but poor execution," she closed her eyes tired from nausea. "It was like riding a giant wild hare. It made me sick to my stomach. And he was slipping around on the icy cobblestones. I can hardly do that for a few minutes much less than for hours on end."

"I'm sorry," Beast frowned with guilt. He hadn't intended to make her ill. "I just know how much you want to see your father."

 _'Idiot,'_ he berated himself. _'You always make mistakes!'_

"I do," Belle tried to smile but found herself shivering instead from her cold sweat outdoors. "It was a nice thought. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say. I'm just glad to know he is well."

"Here you are dearie," Mrs. Potts entered the salon. "Hot chocolate to settle your stomach. Master, why don't you grab that blanket for the Miss?"

Beast grunted in agreement and took a velvety throw from a chair in the salon corner and draped it around Belle's shoulders. 

"Thank you," Belle pulled the soft throw closer around her. "I'm fine. I just need to rest for a moment."

Lumiere and Mrs. Potts left the room quickly coaxing the doors closed for more privacy.

The Beast sat across from her fiddling with his fur covered hands. He knew this was his doing. Wanting to help her leave had only harmed her. Belle noticed his knit brow under her half closed eyes. She leaned her head to rest it on her arm propped on the armrest and reached into her gown pocket.

 _'He's worried,'_ Belle noticed that Beast's tail twitched nonstop next to his thigh as he tried to sit still. The carmel gold tail fur was puffed up with agitation. 

Belle knew she would feel better soon but she also could see that the Beast needed a distraction. 

_'I hate resorting to this tactic, but I don't know any other way,_ ' Belle pulled the book out of her pocket and onto her lap. _'I want to know what exactly is his reading issue. Maybe it can be helped.'_

Beast said the other day that he had indeed learned how to read long ago, but whenever Belle asked if he would read a page, he refused. 'The letters get mixed up,' Beast would say. Not wanting to press the issue, Belle would return to reading aloud. 

Now, however, it was her chance.

"Beast?" Belle said in an intentionally overtly sleepy tone. "Would you please read? My head is still spinning too much."

"I..." Beast's breath hitched in fear. "I can't. It's been so long." Besides a label or sign, he would avoid essays and books at all costs. One or two words were fine, but sentence after sentence; that's what servants, messengers, and scribes were for. They could read instead and he could avoid embarrassment.

"Just a sentence or two? Please?" Belle pleaded softly.

 _'She does love her stories,'_ Beast grumbled to himself. _'She still looks very pale and it's all my own damn fault. Come on! Don't be rude.'_

"Fine," he stood up and reached for the book. "just one sentence."

"Thank you," Belle smiled.

"The mark meanwhile at this all," Beast began to scan the words. "Wait... that's not. **Grrraaah**!"

 _'Those the two lines are atop each other,'_ Belle noted. _'He's reading one word, skipping down and then back up.'_

"Just set the ribbon underneath the letters and then try," Belle suggested.

Beast moved the bookmark ribbon sideways to do so but still his eyes would not focus.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled. "It's no use."

"Here now," Belle shifted and reached out her hand waving him over. He moved over to her and she grabbed the book.

"No need to give up. Try placing the ribbon underneath and your finger over the word," she demonstrated. "Then slowly move your finger along to reveal the word letter by letter."

She handed the book back to him and rested her head into her propped hand on the chair armrest. He took the book back standing near her as frustrated noise rumbled deep in his throat.

"T-H-" Beast read letter by letter

"Don't say the letter," she motioned with her hand. "Make the noise of the letter. _SSS, tuuu, haaa_ alright?"

He nodded and moved to sit back across from her.

"Tee- huuu-eee.. um," Beast read along slowly.. Thuue..the Mmmu..ee...aaa..nnn...wuuuhhhuuuilllee...aas; the meanwhile as thhieyesse..wa..wa..waas..aaa dduuooinnnguuu. The meanwhile as this was a doing, eye...in seeaammuue... in seeamue? In came! Muueerla-eyennu... Muerlaeyenu? Merlaeyen? Merlin?"

Belle's eyes closed and she nodded at his hopeful voice. The fireplace warmed her face and she sipped hot chocolate from the silver mug. 

_'I'm royalty,_ ' Beast's mind screamed at him. _'I should be able to do this! Damn it! One sentence!'_

"Don't worry," Belle noticed his pause and fluttered her eyes open. He was tugging at his thick golden hair like fur on his head.

"It's alright," Belle cooed, feeling very sleepy indeed near the fireplace toasted chair. "Take your time. There is no rush. I'll be resting for a while."

 _'That's right_ ,' Beast nodded to himself. _'I'm a grown man...monster... whatever I am, no one will hurt me. And it's Belle. She's a commoner, but she's kinder and more gentle than all the aristocratic fools. It's just one sentence.'_

He continued on with the struggle. His head hurt with confusion but Belle's sleepy smile pushed him on to complete the sentence.

"Will you try that sentence again? Please?"

"It's so damn hard," Beast grumbled. He blowed out air with frustration, moving his hand and ribbon to the start of the sentence.

" The meeeeanwhiiiile asss theeis waaas aaadoooing, in caaameh Meeerlin toooo Keeeng Mu-aark, aaanduh seeing aallluh hiss dooo-eeng, sssaid, Hu Heer shaalle bu-bee in this saaame plu-plaace the greaaatest battle beeetwixt twoe- two kuu-nights...knights that was ooor shaaall be, aaand the true-essst luh-lovers, aaand yeet..yet nu-none of them shall slaaay oooother.

"Thank you," Belle smiled. He could read. He could do it.

"I'm sorry. I sound like a fool," he snarled. "A complete dolt."

"No," Belle retorted gently. "You sound like you're out of practice. Otherwise all the words were in order and all the sounds were correct and _that_ is the hardest part."

"Ahem," Cogsworth sounded at the doors. "Pardon me Master but the Mademoiselle should rest some more. We can serve a light dinner meal here, if that would please you, sir."

Beast looked to Belle and she nodded in approval at the idea. Beast was progressing and though she felt well enough, she did not wish to interrupt the strides he was taking.

"Very well," Beast nodded. Cogsworth bowed and the clockman scuttled away.

"Can you read another sentence before dinner?" Belle asked.

"Alright." The Beast carried on moving the ribbon and his clawed finger, careful not to scratch the page.

"Aand tee..there Meerlin waaa..wroote their nnnaames oooppupon the tooomb with le...let..letters oof guh..gooal...gold that shoo...should feye..fiight..fighting that puu..plaa..plasseee, place; whooose names weee..were Luh,laauns, Launclot deee Luh..laaake, and Tee..tree..trisss..Tristram." 

Two carts rolled into the room with small bowls of soup and stacked serving trays full of finger foods. Beast closed the book handing it back to Belle in her chair. She shifted sitting up taller and moved to grab a small bowl and spoon into her hand. The Beast also grabbed a bowl and downed it as if it was a beverage. Belle took her time with the soup. Her stomach still felt off and she didn't want to get sick again. The Beast grabbed finger foods from the stacked serving trays. He tried to eat slower to not push the trays off their carts. 

"When I was walking back, I noticed the Coachman did compress the snow down," Belle finished her soup and grabbed some small plate with a lump of fanciful food off the serving tray. "But I don't want to risk riding or walking Philippe down a slope that steep and slippery. If the road was maintained, maybe but, there may be loose footing and he could go lame." 

"What about shoveling?" Beast frowned in thought

" Forgive me," Belle giggled covering her mouth so that the contents of a carrot and walnut dish wouldn't fall out. "but you are suggesting shoveling through miles of mountainous woodlands? That is impossible. The snow is shoulder high in some areas and the pass is closed. And it's only November; winter is only just starting. If it was maintained, yes, maybe, but it is an undertaking for an army now."

"It's November?" Beast's velvety ears perked up. He hadn't realized that he had no idea of what month it was for a while. The passage of time simply hadn't concerned him very much ever since he was cursed.

"Yes," Belle nodded, reaching for another small plate of a globe shaped pastry no taller than her thumb. "It is. Actually," Belle thoughtfully bit into the flaky morsel filled with a creamy sauce with bacon and mushroom filling. "army...navy....there maybe a way for me to return by following a riverbank. Do you have a map?"

"Yes," Beast nodded, eating a toothpick assembled grape leaf wrapped meat. "In the study."

"May I see it once we finish?" Belle nibbled a rounded soft pastry with brie and berries within. "I'm feeling much better with food in my stomach."

"Of course," Beast continued to eat. "Anything to assist you homeward."

 _'And to prevent me from becoming more attached to your good nature,'_ Beast gobbled a wafer with shredded quail pate. 

* * *

"Drat." Lumiere pouted with arms crossed. "I was certain she would stay after that ridiculous ride."

The candelabra man, Cogsworths and Mrs. Potts were standing outside a closed salon door. The servants were trying to give the two privacy but still wanted to hear how they were coming along.

"Lumiere, what did you do?" Mrs. Potts hissed

"Nothing," Lumiere sheepishly grinned and shrugged. "Well, I may have told the Coachman to make the ride a little uncomfortable to deter the Mademoiselle from leaving. "

"You sneaky waxy earred miscreant!" Cogsworth sputtered. 

"Blah blah blah," Lumiere waved his candle mimicking Cogsworth.

" How dare you pompous pea brain!" Cogsworth lunged for his wax nose.

"Stop now!" Mrs. Potts curtly scolded. They both stood up straight to attention from the guilt only a Mother's voice could warrant. "Lumiere, that was very risky having him exaggerate false danger."

"He ..he did not exaggerate though," Lumiere stammered. "The roads _are_ terrible. Besides, I had to act quickly. Do you want her to leave so soon?"

"No," Cogsworth waved a hand angrily at Lumiere. "But! BUT!" 

"Believe me," Lumiere gestured to himself. "If I thought of a better option I would have done so. I had to do something. Everyone is counting on those two to fall in love. Besides, the road is in bad condition according to Coachman. Fallen trees, uncleared landslides and the snow is up to Mademoiselle's waist in some places. Not at all safe for a long journey with the Mademoiselle, at least not with our transportation."

Mrs. Potts sighed, absorbing his words. 

"Oooh!" Cogsworth stamped his tiny feet. "But, now they are trying to find an alternative route where the snow is less dangerous."

"Oui," Lumiere nodded. "And she is very strong. That is a good quality but she might be able to trek on foot."

"Then," Cogsworth paled. "We're doomed." 

* * *

The pair left the embroidery salon as the dining carts wheeled out. Belle followed the Beast to his study. He opened the drawers of the desk searching through papers. His claws accidently punctures several of the sheets of paper. 

"May I?" Belle stepped towards the desk and began to empty the drawer contents one by one. She reached a layer of leather and metal canisters. Beast reached in and laid them out on the desk.

" Burgundy, Val de Loire, Normandy, no,"he read off the large fonted labels and set them to the side. "No, no...here."

Belle offered to open the tricky canister and he handed it to her. As he was putting the other canisters back into the drawer, Belle rolled out the map onto the desk placing elegant glass paperweights atop the map corners. Pouring over the map, they inspected the whole mountainous region of the castle and beyond. 

They found the normal but now impassable castle road. It would be less than a twenty mile journey but with the pass closed ahead and the steep sloping terrain, it was out of the question. Belle noted a river that moved westernly and curved around back towards the valley of her home, but it would surely take twice as long.

"This journey would take an entire day," Belle brushed a loose hair strand away from her face.

"Yes," Beast agreed. "And traveling through the mountains you need to increase your estimated travel time by at least an additional quarter for the slopes. _And_ accounting for the snow another quarter amount of time. _And_ the river doesn't run straight so there will surely be detours along the banks; fallen trees, waterfalls. So it seems the trip will be from sunrise to noon the following day without rest.

"If I do rest," Belle sighed "which will be needed, the journey will take two full days."

"That's dangerous in the cold weather," Beast scowled. 

_'I do wish she could leave so I can stop this, this,_ ' Beast frowned at the confusion of his thoughts, _'whatever, this foolish childish attachment is, but, I don't want her to come to harm.'_

"What if I take the Coachman along the river?" Belle suggested.

"You said it was slipping about," Beast pouted. "It's likely he will lose his footing and may fall into the water. With you inside? You could drown or freeze. Riding Phillip won't be good either. The terrain may still be too treacherous and the water too deep for horseback in winter."

"True," Belle sighed. "I suppose that isn't wise. I am surprised you calculated the route like so. "

"An expensive education ment I needed a firm grasp on military tactics. That includes understanding terrain," Beast scratched his golden fur neck. "The march speed of a common foot soldier or by horse. Understanding the field from mountains, heat, storm or snow. It can be done, but do you want to risk it?"

"I...." Belle hesitated. "I'm not certain."

"Your safety takes precedence," Beast huffed. "You are still welcome here as my guest." 

"Thank you," Belle said, pushing a loose strang away from her face. "Then I need some time to think about it. See if the weather improves."

Beast nodded knowing her answer would be no. The journey was not of that great importance to risk her life over. He refused to have her blood on his hands.

"That mirror is pretty spectacular," Belle rolled the map up and eyed the large silver mirror above the fireplace. "It's too bad I didn't finish the play. I've never seen a real play in a theater before."

"Is that so?" Beast tilted his head. "I don't know why I didn't think to watch plays with the mirror. I guess I just avoid it. I can't stand the smell it makes."

"Smell?" Belle handed him the map canister.

"Yes, it stinks," he growled, putting the maps away in the drawer. "Smells like burning metal."

"I didn't smell anything," Belle retorted, setting the papers back atop the map canisters. "It must be your sensitive nose."

"I can tolerate it for a short time, but not for long," Beast explained. "If it doesn't bother you, you may use the mirror if you wish. Someone might as well find joy in it."

"Really?!" Belle exclaimed. "Thank you!"

"Your welcome," Beast smiled. He tried unsuccessfully to stop his tail from swaying pleased with her happiness. "Maybe you can see the rest of that play tomorrow?"

"After some more reading?" Belle patted her gown pocket.

Beast nodded in agreement.

"Then," Belle smiled-" it sounds like we have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon."

Belle waved goodnight to Beast leaving his study chambers. 

_'There she goes,'_ Beast sighed. He trudged along into his large ornate bedchamber to the multi-paned windows. Repairs still needed to be made from the broken glass the day before as the cold wind blew inside. The day has been cloudy but a break on the horizon shone a ruby sunset along the mountains. 

_'It's too bad she can't leave sooner,'_ he growled to himself. _'I can't stop myself from feeling casual with her, but when she's not around I just want her to come back. It's pathetic. She can't fall in love with me in this horrible body. It's useless to be so friendly with her._

_She's so pleasant though. I want her near. She's like a gem. She even found joy with the mirror. I thought it was only for torture but she started seeing plays.'_

Beast sighed glumly. His nose was filled with her citrus and spice scent still lingering.

 _'It's like she's still here,'_ he sniffed again. Bending his head down he furrowed and sniffed. Her scent was in his fur! 

_'She was resting her head on me,'_ he recalled helping her up the stairs. _'On my shirtless chest! And I ate dinner with her shirtless. Damn! I'm disgraceful. Being injured in my chambers is one thing but to walk about bare chested with her around!'_

His stomach felt in knots. He hurried over to his toilette and walked within the room. Opening an armoire drawer, he found several neglected shirts the tailor had tried to accommodate for him. 

He fumble with his cloak's twisting back brooch allowing it to fall to the floor. He grabbed the first shirt and held it carefully in his claws. Slipping it overhead, he fumbled with it hearing a tear of fabric. Eventually, he situated the shirt on and glanced at himself in a long mirror.

 _'Stupid,'_ he squinted at himself standing awkwardly. The fabric was still too tight across his huge ribcage and the sleeves dangled loosely. He angrily ripped off the shirt with his claws leaving the torn fabric on the floor. Walking to a cord within the room he pulled to call for the servants. 

_'I need to have some sort of decorum and modesty,'_ he walked to a cord within the toilette chamber and pulled it to call for the servants. _'If Belle's staying for the winter it's hardly decent to dress only in trousers, even if she is of common blood.'_ He padded along back to his bedchamber to sit and wait in his armchair. It was indeed time for the tailor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all🥀🥀🥀🥀  
> No historical notes here today, which feels odd. C'est la vie.


	27. Comfrey and Cloaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle makes some medicines and Beast gets fitted for new clothes.

Belle left Beast's cabinet of study and strolled outside into the ruby sunset to retrieve Phillipe. Opening the pasture gate, the Belgian draft horse plodded alongside her on the white covered path to the stables. Even though the enchanted staff had cleared away the paths, snow had blown about dusting the gravel and cobblestone paths.

Belle brushed down Phillipe's sandy colored coat when she placed him in the stables. She noticing he was putting on a bit more winter weight, but decided to fasten a lightweight blanket on him as precaution to the cold night ahead. She hurried back into the castle from the hedgerow door into her toasty pastel chambers. Madame de la Grande Bouche was already fast asleep as Belle removed her snow crusted boots, warming herself by the roaring fireplace.

A knock sounded at the door and Belle answered.

"Here you are, dearie," Mrs. Potts rolled in on her brass cart. "Something to warm you right up."

"Thank you," Belle reached for the chamomile tea.

"Are you feeling better Miss?" a girlish sounding teacup squeaked.

"Oh, much better," Belle chuckled and smiled. 

"Oh that's jolly good to hear," Mrs Potts nodded to the grinning teacup.

"I'm very sorry about missing the reading with all of you tonight," Belle apologized to the teacup girl.

"That's alright Miss. We are just happy you're not ill anymore," the teacup girl wiggled. "We were all hoping you would feel better."

"Oh, how sweet," Belle smiled. "Thank you. "

"That's enough chit chat Leslie," Mrs. Potts reminded the young teacup girl. "Duties first."

"Yes Mam," the teacup squeaked, straightening up.

"But how are you," Mrs. Potts questioned Belle further as she took another sip of tea. "Did you find a way home?"

"Yes and no," Belle placed Leslie onto the serving cart. She sat down on an ivory and pastel armchair and swung her feet with disappointment. "It appears that it is too dangerous for me to travel in this winter weather. The snow drifts are much too high on the castle road. When I came here I saw fallen trees and damage from landslides, so I'm certain it is worse now. And it will take a day and a half without rest if I use an alternative route with the river. If I was more familiar with the terrain, perhaps, but I must admit that the idea of wandering into the wild in the winter is very unwise. Still, I'm a bit disappointed."

"No need to fret," Mrs. Potts cooed. "You are most welcome here. Cheer up, it will all turn out alright."

"I suppose I will staying here longer. Maybe all winter," Belle nodded in agreement. "Oh, since I am staying here, I should inform you that I'm out of my rosemary tincture for cleaning Beast's wounds. Are you certain there are no tinctures or salves in the castle?"

"No love, erm," Mrs. Potts stammered and chuckled nervously. "Brewing those sorts of things take time and um, we can't afford that." 

"You can afford the time for a champagne fountain song and dance routine but not time to make a tincture?" Belle skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"Well dearie, it's er," Mrs. Potts stammered and then sighed, " it's complicated dearie."

"That's all you can say isn't it?" Belle furrowed her brows in sympathetic concern. Mrs. Potts was usually straightforward and wasn't prone to nervousness. 

"Yes, Miss," Mrs. Potts sighed and bobbed in agreement.

"I see," Belle placed a finger under her chin in thought.

 _'It's the spell then_ ,' Belle tucked a loose strand of her chestnut hair behing her ear. _'I guess I won't press the issue.'_

"Would it be ok for me to make some fresh batches of healing oils and tinctures?" Belle asked.

"Why of course," Mrs. Potts beamed. "That would be perfect!"

"It would take a few weeks. I don't want to trouble anyone in the kitchens."

"It's quite alright. It would be smart to make some for injuries."

"I think the standard calendula and comfrey would be best. "

"We have that dried for certain," Mrs. Potts confirmed.

"And what about fresh sage or rosemary. Do you have any of that?"

"I'm certain we have both in the glass garden."

"There's a glass garden?" Belle gasped at the prospect of such an extravagance.

"Why yes," Mrs. Potts smiled.

"Amazing," Belle remarked. "I would like to see that in the daylight if possible."

"Of course Miss," Mrs. Potts bobbed. "It seems you'll have a busy day tomorrow, dearie. Best rest up and get some sleep." 

"I suppose so," Belle nodded in agreement standing up and stretching.

"Good night then," Mrs Potts rolled away with Leslie on the serving cart. The candle light dimmed when the door closed, leaving only a single candelabra still lit.

Madame Grande Bouche was snoring still.

Belle moved through the antechamber into her small study with the candelabra. Crossing off the day from her handwritten calendar she still felt pleased. Her father was alive and though he did appear sad within the Beast's magic mirror, her Papa was in good health. Not only that but the Beast could also read. Both things were good news. 

_'It's so nice that he's trying to work to get me home,'_ Belle recalled their map reviewing. _'It's not likely I can with the snow drifts blown so high on the road but there is still hope.'_

* * *

The Beast's tail was stiff and achy. He stood in the center of his dressing toilette as straight and tall as possible. A measuring ribbon floated about him measuring along his bare but fur covered spine. Garment fittings had always been long affairs often taking up an entire afternoon, but this evening fitting seemed endless.

A wooden and wicker dressform rolled about the candlelit gilded room scribbling notes. The Beast felt uneasy knowing that the headless basket weaved dressform had once been a slender middle aged man of impeccable style with a distinct thin mustache. Lumiere stood nearby with his flames glowing upon a side table. It seemed that the tailor was now mute like Chapeau. Lumiere had explained that the fitting needed to start from scratch with additional measurements needed for properly fitted garments to accommodate Beast correctly.

The measuring ribbon wrapped around Beast's canine like legs at different spots of his hindquarter like hamstrings. It then moved upward toward his ears measuring between the two. 

"No wigs or hats," Beast snarled, brushing the measuring tape away from his head. "It's pointless with _these_ ," he pointed to his dark curved horns. He recalled Belle's words that ribbons and bows would only soil and tear.

 _'They aren't necessary for day to day life,'_ she had explained to him.

"No lace or ribbons either," Beast glanced at his torn trousers, understanding her words. "They'll be useless with _these_ ," he waved his fur covered paw like hands. "Keep it neat and simple."

"D'accord," Lumiere nodded in agreement. 

After more measurements, ribbon floated back to the dressform tailor and into his sewing bag. He then clapped his gloved wooden hands. In poured several chests and trunks waddling along full of fabric.

Beast knew the routine. The fabric would be used for his shirts, waistcoats, trousers, overcoats and trims. Before, he was so meticulous on choosing the most fanciful weaves and textures. Now he just wanted something lightweight for his fur and durable enough to avoid ripping. He could only imagine the shame of accidently ripping apart his shirt in front of Belle.

Beast bent low examining the lighter materials, particularly a gorgeous rich plum colored fabric. He thumbed the fabric between his fingers seeing if the weave was strong enough. He went on to do the same with dozens of other fabrics for capes and overcoats. The tailor rolled over with some ribbons to pair as the trim showing gesturing where it may sit on himself. 

"Master, would you care for some cognac?" Lumiere offered remembering his old habit during fittings. Lumiere willed a crystal decanter to pour the caramel colored liquid into an elegant glass on the side table. He then willed a small silver serving platter to float over to Beast.

"Yes," Beast nodded, taking the crystal glass. He still eyed the thin white summer fabrics for shirts, carefully pressing the etched glass to his bottom lip, so as to not scratch the familiar royal family crystal. The sip was smooth and creamy with a pleasant burn. He smacked his lips and grunted with a satisfaction of the taste. He set the glass back onto the silver tray returning his attention to the trouser materials.

"Mon Dieu," Lumiere whispered gawking. The glass was still halfway full. Usually the Master would have taken full swigs, drinking five or six glasses during a fitting. Lumiere couldn't help but grin at the change. Looking at the tailor, Lumiere saw the dress form crossing it's basket weaved arms tapping it's gloved fingers in frustration. The tailor gestured to the Beast's feet and instantly, Lumiere understood. 

"Erm Master," Lumiere twiddled his candles hoping the question would not lead to an outburst. "about footwear... How would you like to proceed?"

Beast's face dropped and his brow furrowed.

 _'Damn,'_ he growled sneering at his fur covered feet. His toe claws were thick and long. They would wear through leather easily. Having his toes constrained didn't feel comfortable either.

"We could have a separate compartment for each, ah, toe, Master," Lumiere pointed out as the Beast continued to stare at his feet. 

Beast recalled a court lady putting shoes on her poodle before taking it on a promenade. It walked ridiculously, raising its feet awkwardly with each step. Beast could only imagine he would unwillingly react the same way now that he was more a wild animal than a civilized man.

"No shoes," Beast squinted down at his feet.

 _'I don't feel the cold anyhow with these,'_ he huffed, wiggling his toe claws. His heart then suddenly felt light. He realized that he had once again unintentionally inhaled the smell of citrus and bergamot that still lingered on his chest fur.

"As you wish, Master," Lumiere bowed and nodded to the dress form. The wicker dress form also bowed and began to will the trunks of fabric shut. 

"I also need a bath," Beast stood tall once more trying to ignore Belle's distracting sweet scent on his fur. "Belle said I can bath now, as long as I don't get my wounds wet."

"Yes Master, of course," Lumiere nodded as the dressform rolled out of the room with it's waddling trunks.

"And Lumiere," Beast scratched at the back of his long haired neck. 

_'You shouldn't be so short with them,'_ Belle's voice echoed in his mind. 

_'For a commoner she's right about so many things,_ " Beast frowned. _"She was raised for good society though. She's probably right about my manners."_

"Yes, Master?" Lumiere hopped forward.

"Um," Beast huffed. "sorry for being short with you earlier today." 

Lumiere blinked unsure if he had heard correctly. First the self control with cognac and now an apology? Even if the spell wasn't broken, Lumiere was certain that this alone was a miracle. 

"There is no need to apologize Master," Lumiere grinned, "but thank you for the thought."

Lumiere bowed and hopped away to the cabinet de bain. 

Beast placed a navy blue cloak back onto his shoulders and moved to an armchair in his bed chamber. There were still some hammers and brooms moving about by candlelight as instructed. They were adding wood pieces to the damaged window frames so that the chilled winter air would no longer blow into the castle. Not that Beast minded the cold with his heavy fur, but he didn't want Belle risking illness with her daily visits. Mrs. Potts would be furious at him and he would be angrier at himself. 

"Ahem, ahem," Cogsworth cleared his throat announcing himself. He stood in the Cabinet de bain's doorway. "Pardon me Master, but your bath is ready." 

Beast disrobed in the tiled steamy room, allowing himself to be rinsed and soaped up by floating wash cloths. They were careful with his still sore neck and arm avoiding the bandaged areas.

 _'How long has it been since I've bathed?'_ Beast let his mind wander as his fur was scrubbed and rinsed. _'I know it was around when Belle arrived but I can't remember how many days it's been. Since she's been here the snow started and the fog disappeared. And those stars."_

He recalled the spectacular meteor shower filling the night sky just days before. He was able to gaze at the stars once again. He wondered if the astronomy tower was still in good condition and not worn down like his chambers. He recalled using the old scholarly telescopes to view the stars and moon as a child. There were so many more stars revealed using those scientific glass tubes that could not normally be seen.

Moving to soak up to his chest in the large warm tub, he made sure his bandaged arm rested on the ornate tile outside of the tub. He looked at his fingers and flexed for his feline like retractable claws to extend. They were more slender than those on his feet. Nevertheless they were like talons and shredded through paper and cloth just by accident. 

_'Should they be filed down?'_ he pondered. 'I _can still hunt if needed with my teeth.'_

He had joined hunts before at court. He had been taught the basics of a musket, crossbow, and spear but never used them during the hunt. That job was for the lower nobles and gamekeepers. 

_'I'm sure I could at least figure out a spear at least,'_ he remembered a burly gatekeeper hurling a spear into the skull of a boar during a hunt. At the time he had been filled with disgust at the time but he had clapped along politely with his older half brothers. 

_'Now, I'm just like that wild animal,_ ' he stood up out of the clear bath water. _'Hunting with tooth and claw. Disgusting.'_

He shook his head at the images of blood pulsing out of his latest boar kill's bristled neck and the hunger that followed. A flurry of white soft towels floated and patted his wet fur. A towel wrapped around his waist and he walked over to sit on a stool. Oil bottles and combs floated, working clove spiced smelling oil into his dark colored fur.

 _'Her scent is gone_ ,' he sighed with relief. 

Belle had so easily leaned into him when he offered to help her back inside the castle. She had also taken his hand that he had unknowingly offered her. 

_'She didn't have any hesitation or fear of me,'_ he mused looking at his claw like nails. _'One accidental swipe and...'_

"Cogsworth," Beast called. 

"Yes, Master?" Cogsworth sounded and waddled closer.

" I need my..." Beast hesitated, "my _nails_ made to be a proper length."

"Yes Sir," Cogsworth bowed and scurried away.

Beast walked back into his bedchambers noticing the hammers and brooms were all gone, finished with their work. He felt warmth radiate from a corner and realized the freshly cleaned cocklestove was working. 

_'I used to sit here after my hair was washed,'_ Beast remembered walking over to a chair placed by the gilded stove. The stove was much too warm for him now to be comfortable, but it radiated with heat to dry his damp fur and warm the chilled room. 

Cogsworth soon reentered the room with Chapeau who held a large metal file Beast had never seen before. They began to file away each dark curved nail until a pile of ashy dust had formed on the floor. Beast stared outside at the dark windows trying to endure the itchy irritation reverberating from the nail file into his finger tips.

"Are you finished?" he grumbled tail swishing with uncontrolled irritation and wound up shutting his eyes tight. 

"Our apologies, Master," Cogsworth timidly replied. "Just a little longer."

One by one, each nail claw was filed shorter. 

"Voila!" Lumiere exclaimed. Beast let out a sigh which sounded more like a growl and finally opened up his eyes. A small hand broom and dustpan were sweeping away the piled up nail dust

"They aren't short," Beast squinted at his hardly shorter but duller nails. "Why are they still long?"

"Forgive me Sire," Lumiere stammered explaining. "Any shorter and they will bleed. After a few more times, they will become shorter without injury."

"The Mademoiselle may be upset if you have bloody nails, Master," Cogsworth nodded in agreement.

"Alright," Beast grumbled disappointed, poking his black claw nails at the fabric of his robe. The nails didn't rip through as they usually would.

"Anything else we can assist you with, your Highness?" Cogsworth held back a yawn as his face chimed at the one o'clock number mark.

"No," Beast shook his horned head. " You are dismissed."

"Good night then,your Highness," Cogsworth bowed with Lumiere and Chapeau leaving Beast to a dark room.

Beast moved to bed only covering himself with a white sheet. He was pleased that his claw like nails didn't rip any of the fabric and nestled himself into bed.

* * *

The next morning, Belle sped through getting Phillipe outside and eating breakfast. She promptly went into the kitchens. It was filled with warm morning light and busy with the enchanted staff preparing food. She asked a faucet with a face if she could borrow an apron so as to not ruin her new day gown. An old white apron floated her way. The kitchen tables had rolling pins working dough, powders being sifted, bowls whisking and mixing away.

"This way dearie," Mrs. Potts called her over to a quiet wooden table. 

"Hi ya, Belle," Chip squeaked near Mrs. Potts."

"Why, hello. Oh, Mrs. Potts,this is perfect," Belle looked over the herbs laid out on the table.

"And we have the clean glass here dearie," Mrs. Potts hopped across to another countertop where brown glass bottles were laid out. 

"Wonderful" Belle nodded to Mrs. Potts. "You wouldn't happen to have garlic as well?"

"Of course," Mrs. Potts bobbed. "You are welcome to use anything from the kitchen dearie."

Belle thanked Mrs. Potts and started removing the pungent earthy rosemary needles from their sprigs. Chip watched her asking about her task. As Belle chopped up the sage and rosemary filling each into its own bottle she explained the astringent properties of both. Belle topped the bottles off with grain alcohol and repeated the same routine with the garlic as well, peeling the cloves and mincing them finely. Mrs. Potts offered Belle a snack of fresh croissants with butter and jam, and Belle happily obliged. 

Belle thought about what to use on the Beast's wounds today since the tincture was out and asked Mrs. Potts if five boiled eggs could be made. Mrs. Potts agreed and set another enchanted servant to do the chore. Belle noticed a section of spices and she found a cloves filled spice jar. Grabbing a mortar and pestle, Belle then crushed some of the sweet spicy cloves, filling them within a brown glass container. She covered them with almond oil and then repeated the same for the comfrey in a different bottle. Chip marveled when the oil began to darken immediately to black when poured atop of the comfrey.

Belle crushed more comfrey and calendula filling two more separate bottles and topping them off with alcohol. Belle set the oil bottles near a warm sun filled windowsill and the other's within a dim lit pantry room. 

"That will take a while to rest," Belle wiped her hands off on a dish towel after her long work.

"Will you be coming down here to shake them every day?" Mrs. Potts chirped.

"I suppose so," Belle tilted her head. "They'll need to be turned for a few weeks."

"Yes, a few weeks," Mrs. Potts blinked. "I hate to ask, but it would be a big help if you could please look after that, dearie."

"Certainly," Belle replied confused as to why the staff couldn't look after the herbs themselves especially since the kitchen seemed to be running so smoothly.

"Ah, thank you!" Mrs. Potts exclaimed as a bowl of boiled eggs slid towards them along the countertop.

Belle noticed they were still in their white and brown shells. 

_'They can't peel without hands,'_ Belle realized and began cracking the shells. She placed the eggs back into the bowl and spread the shells in front of her.

"We can use these for a salad," Mrs. Potts remarked, nodding to an enchanted servant to take them away. Belle carefully removed the clear membranes and folded them into a damp cloth.

"We'll have that upstairs for you to use on the Master," Mrs. Potts remarked.

"I would have liked to see the glass garden today, but my stomach is telling me it's probably lunch time," Belle took off her apron. She smelled the stew cooking atop of Monsieur Cuisiner. 

"You're quite right, love," Mrs. Potts agreed. Mrs. Potts called for Lumiere to lead Belle out of the bustling kitchen.

"Byeee!!!" Chip called out to Belle as she walked away. She waved and moved towards the empty Emerald Hall. 

_'It's so quiet,'_ Belle sat down at the long dining table set for one. She gazed out of the tall windows at the courtyard. The snow and ice glittered as the sun shone down on the wintery ornamental shrubs. Belle's meal arrived on a serving cart and dished itself out before retreating away. Her silverware clinked quietly against the ornate soup bowl echoing in the chandelier decorated room as she ate her stew. While she could sense that the servants were watching her anticipating her beckoning call, they blended into the room with their silence.

_'It sort of feels a bit lonely,'_ Belle realized.

Belle began to eat a little faster, eager to share some company with the Beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one year of writing for me. I didn't think I could do it or anyone would be interested, but here we are. Thank you for all of your interest and support. The BATB fandom is truly still alive and well.
> 
> Some notes regarding the text:
> 
> Click the link for an image of an 18th century dress form and mannequin. Eerie to say the least.  
> https://pin.it/4NTpDj2  
> https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/antique-italian-18th-century-lady-1808344436
> 
> Also herb info:  
> Comfrey- external use for infection and inflammation   
> Calendula- antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory   
> Sage- pain relief, antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, digestive issues such as diarrhea or heart burn, free radical damage, depression, memory loss , dementia (still being researched by scientists for medicinal benefits)  
> Rosemary- antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, cognitive stimulant  
> Clove- high in vitamins and though not consistent with research results, it is said to help with tooth pain  
> Garlic- vitamin b, vitamin c, magnesium, selenium, copper, potassium, and iron


End file.
